^ 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

LIBRARY 


n 


THE  WILMER  COLLECTION 

OF  CIVIL  WAR  NOVELS 

PRESENTED  BY 

RICHARD  H.  WILMER,  JR. 


POPULAR   NOVELS. 

By  Jfrs.   Mary  J,    Holnies, 

L — TEMPBST  AND  aCNsniKH. 
II.'KNUL1SII  OKPriAXS. 
ni.— nOMRSTEAD  ON  THK  ITILiapm. 
IV.— l.KNA  urvBRa. 

v.— MEADOW   BROOK. 
VL— DORA  DKANB. 
VII.— COUSrS  BlAtJD*. 
YIH.—UJLRI/lS  ORAT. 

EX. — DARKNESS  AND  DATLieHT.         ^ 

X.— HUGH  WORXraNOTOH. 
XI.— CA5rER0N  rUIDB.  ^ 
XII.— ROSE,  MATHER. 
XIIL— ETHEL YN'S   MI3TAKK.  .^ 
XrV.— MILLBAKK.    ^ 
XV.— EDNA  BBOWNnS'G.      {Nf»9.) 


Kn.  Holmes  is  a  peculiarly  pleasant  and  f&^dzwting  writar. 
Her  books  are  always  entertaiumg,  and  she  baa 
the  rare  faculty  of  enlisting  ihc  synijimhy 
and  affections  of  her  readers,  and  of 
holding  their  attention  to  her 
pages  with  deep  and 
absorbing  inter- 
eat. 


AO  publlfihed  nnlfonn  with  this  Tolnme.     Price  ?1.B0  ( 
and  Bent  free  by  tnaii,  on  receipt  of  pncf  by 

O.   W.   CAR  I.  ETON    Jk   CO., 

New  York. 


HUGH  WORTHINGTON 


%  iflhl. 


BT 


Mrs.  MARY  J.  HOLMES, 

lUTHOB   or  "DABKITBSS    AND    DATLIGHX,"    "'LENA    BIYEBS,"     '*  HABf AN    aBBX>' 

"MBADOW  BBOOK,"  "  HOMESTEAD,"  "DOBA  DEANE,"  "COUSIN  MAUDE,** 

^'XOMrSSI    AND    SUNSHINE,"   "ENGLISH    OBPHANS,"  BIO. 


NEW  YORK: 
Carleton^  Publishery  Madison  Square* 

LONDON:  S.  LOW,  SON  &  CO. 
M  DCCC  LXXIV. 


Vatered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  In  the  year  1868,  tv 

DANIEL    HOLMES, 

lb  IbB  Caerk's  Office  of  the  Distriot  Ooort  for  Mm  Northern  District  ot  New  Tort 


CONTENTS. 


I.   SPRINO  BANK. -.           '  7 

n.    WHAT  EOVEB  FOUXD.             ...•,,  16 

in.   HUGH'S   SOLILOQUT •           .  84 

XY.    TERRACE  HILL. 89 

V.   ANKA  AND  JOHN 49 

TI.    ALICE  JOHNSON 65 

VII.    RIVERSIDE  COITAOE.        .......  61 

Vm.  MR.  LISTON  AND  THE  DOCTOR 73 

IX,   MATTERS  IN  KENTUCKY 78 

X.    'LINA's  PURCHASE  AND  HUOH'S.             •           •           •           .  89 

XI.    SAM  AND  ADAH.                .                        98 

XII.   WHAT  FOLLOWED 104 

XIII.  HOW  HUGH  PAID   HIS  DEBTS               .                       «...  109 

XIV.  MRS.  JOHNSON'S  LETTER.                .....  117 

XV.    SARATOGA.                .           .           .           .           ♦           ,           ,           .  125 

XVI.   THE  COLUMBIAN.          .           .                       .           .           •           •  184 

XVII.    HUGH 144 

XVIII.   MEETINa  OF  ALICE  AND  HUGH.                .                       ...  151 
XrX.   ALICE  AND  MUGGINS.                 .           .           .            ,           .           ,160 

XX.    POOR  HUGH.                 164 


532818 


TI  CONTENTS. 

OHAnmB.  tAa«. 

XXL    ALICE  AKD  ADAH.                                    182 

XXIL    WAKI^a  TO  CONSCI0USKES8.                               .                        .  198 

2Xin.    THE  SALE. 208 

ZXTV.    THE  BIDE.                       .           .           •           •           .                        .  21 5 

ZXV     HUGH   AKD  ALICK.           .           •           •           .                       .  22) 

ZXVL   ADAH*S  JOUBXET.                 23S 

XXVn.    ADAH  AT  TERRACE  HILL.         .           .                        ...  241 

ZXYin.   ANNA  AND  ADAH. 266 

ZXIX.    THE   RESULT .           .  261 

XXX.    EXCITEMENT. 275 

XXXI.    HATTERS  AT  SPRING  BANK. 283 

ZXXn.   THE  DAY  OF  THE  WEDDING 290 

XxxHL  THE  convict's  STOBT. 298 

XXXIV.  POOR  'lina.            808 

XXXY.    joining  THE  ARMY. 816 

ZXXVL    THE  DESERTER. .  826 

XXXVIL   THE  SECOND  BATTLE  CT  BULL  EUV.         •           •           •           .  841 

XXXVIIL   HUGH  AND  SAM 847 

XXXIX.    GOING  HOME.                             866 

XL.  CONCLUSION.            .•••••.  M* 


HUGH  WORTHINGTON 


CHAPTER  I. 


SPRING  BANK. 


It  was  a  large,  old-fashioned,  wooden  building,  with 
long,  winding  piazzas,  and  low,  square  porches,  where  the 
Bunimer  sunshine  held  many  a  fantastic  dance,  and  where 
the  winter  storm  piled  up  its  drifts  of  snow,  whistling 
merrily  as  it  worked,  and  shaking  the  loosened  casement, 
as  it  went  whirling  by.  In  front  was  a  wide-spreading 
grassy  lawn  with  the  carriage  road  winding  through 
it,  over  the  running  brook  and  onward  beneath  tall  forest 
trees  until  it  reached  the  main  highway,  a  distance  of 
nearly  half  a  mile.  In  the  rear  was  a  spacious  garden, 
with  bordered  walks,  climbing  roses  and  creeping  vines 
showing  that  some  where  there  was  a  ruling  hand,  which, 
while  neglecting  the  sombre  building  and  suffering  it  to 
decay,  lavished  due  care  upon  the  grounds,  and  not  on 
these  alone,  but  also  on  the  well  kept  barns,  and  the 
white-washed  dwellings  of  the  negroes, —  for  ours  is  a  Ken- 
tucky scene,  and  Spring  Bank  a  Kentucky  home. 

As  we  have  described  it  so  it  was  on  a  drear  December 
night,  when  a  fearful  storm,  for  that  latitude,  was  raging, 

nd  the  snow  lay  heaped  against  the  fences,  or  sweeping 
down  from  the  bending  trees,  drifted  against  the  doors, 

nd  beat  against  the  windows,  whence  a  cheerful  light 
was  gleaming,  telling  of  life  and  possible  happiness  with- 
in. There  were  no  flowing  curtains  before  the  windows, 
no  drapery  sweeping  to  the  floor  —  nothing  save  blinds 


O  HUGH   WORTHINGTON. 

without  and  simple  shades  withio,  neither  of  which  were 
doing  service  now,  for  the  master  of  the  house  would 
have  it  so  in  spite  of  his  sister's  remonstrances. 

"  Some  one  might  lose  their  way  on  that  terrible  night," 
he  said,  "  and  the  blaze  of  the  lire  on  the  hearth,  which 
,|30uld  be  seen  from  afar,  would  be  to  them  a  beacon  light, 
;  to  guide  them  on  their  way.  Nobody  would  look  in  up- 
on them,  as  Adaline,  or  'Lina  as  she  chose  to  be  called 
seemed  to  think  there  might,  and  even  if  they  did,  why 
need  she  care  ?  She  was  looking  well  enough,  and  she'd 
undone  all  those  little  braids  which  disfigured  her  so 
shockingly  in  the  morning,  but  wliich,  when  brushed  and 
carefully  arranged,  gave  her  hair  that  waving  appearance 
she  so  much  desired.  As  for  himself,  he  never  meant  to 
do  anything  of  which  he  was  ashamed,  so  he  did  not  care 
how  many  were  watching  him  through  the  window,"  and 
stamping  his  heavy  boots  upon  the  rug,  for  he  had  just 
come  in  from  the  storm,  Hugh  Worthington  piled  fresh 
fuel  upon  the  fire,  and  shaking  back  the  mass  of  short 
brown  curls  which  had  fallen  upon  his  forehead,  strode 
across  the  room  and  arranged  the  shades  to  his  liking, 
then,  sitting  down  before  the  fire,  he  went  off  into  a  rev- 
erie, the  nature  of  which  his  mother,  who  was  watching 
him,  could  not  guess ;  and  when  at  last  she  asked  of  what 
he  was  thinking  so  intently,  he  made  her  no  reply.  He 
could  hardly  have  told  liimself,  so  varied  were  the 
thoughts  crowding  upon  his  brain  that  wintry  night. 
Now  they  w  ere  of  the  eccentric  old  man,  fi-om  whom  he 
had  received  Spring  Bank,  together  with  the  many  pecu- 
liar ideas  which  made  him  the  strange,  odd  creature  he  was, 
a  mystery  to  his  own  sex,  and  a  kind  of  terror  to  the  femal 
portion  of  the  neighborhood,  who,  looking  upon  him  as 
woman-hater,  avoided  or  coveted  his  society,  just  as  their 
fancy  dictated.  For  years  the  old  man  and  the  boy  had 
lived  alone  in  that  great  house,  enjoying  the  freedom  from 
all  restraint,  the  liberty  of  turning  the  parlors  into  ken 


SPRING   BANK.  W 

nels  if  they  chose,  and  converting  the  upper  rooms  Into  a 
hay-loft,  if  they  would.  No  white  woman  was  ever  seen 
upon  the  premises,  imless  she  came  as  a  beggar,  when  some 
new  gown,  or  sm^plice,  or  organ,  or  chandelier,  was  need- 
ed for  the  pretty  little  church,  lifting  its  modest  spire  so  un- 
obtrusively  among  the  forest  trees,  not  very  far  from  Spring 
Bank.  John  Stanley  didn't  believe  in  churches,  nor  gowns 
nor  organs,  nor  women,  but  he  was  proverbially  liberal 
and  so  the  feir  ones  of  Glen's  Creek  neighborhood  ven- 
tured into  his  den,  finding  it  much  pleasanter  to  do  so  af- 
ter the  handsome,  dark-haired  boy  came  to  live  with  him  , 
for  about  Hugh  there  was  then  something  very  attract- 
ive to  the  little  girls,  while  their  mothers  pitied  him,  won- 
dering why  he  had  been  permitted  to  come  there,  and 
watching  for  the  change  in  him,  which  was  sure  to  ensue. 

Not  all  at  once  did  Hugh  conform  to  the  customs  of 
his  uncle's  household,  and  at  first  there  often  came  over 
him  a  longing  for  the  refinements  of  his  Northern  home, 
and  a  wish  to  infuse  into  Chloe,  the  colored  housekeeper, 
some  of  his  mother's  neatness.  But  a  few  attempts  at  re- 
forin  had  taught  him  how  futile  was  the  effort.  Aunt  Chloe 
always  meeting  him  with  the  argument, 

"  'Tain't  no  use,  Mas'r  Hugh.  A  nigger's  a  nigger ; 
and  I  spec'  ef  you're  to  talk  to  me  till  you  was  hoarse 
bout  your  Yankee  ways  of  scrubbin',  and  sweepin',  and 
moppin'  with  a  broom,  I  shouldn't  be  an  atomer  white- 
folksey  than  I  is  now.  Besides  Mas'r  John  wouldn't  bar 
no  finery;  he's  only  happy  when  the  truck  is  mighty 
nigh  a  foot  thick,  and  his  things  is  lyin'  round  loose  and 
handy." 

To  a  certain  extent  this  was  true,  for  John  Stanley  would 
have  felt  sadly  out  of  place  in  any  spot  where,  as  Chloe 
said,  "  his  things  were  not  lying  round  loose  and  handy," 
and  as  habit  is  everything,  so  Hugh  soon  grew  accus 
tomed  to  his  surroundings,  and  became  as  careless  of  his 
external  appearance  as  his  uncle  could  desire.     Only  one© 


10  HUGH    WOliTHIMiTON-. 

had  there  come  to  him  an  awakening  —  a  faint  concep 
tion  of  the  happmess  there  might  arise  from  constant  as- 
sociation  with  the  pure  and  refined,  such  as  his  uncle  had 
labored   to   make    him   believe  did   not   exist.     He  was 
thinking  of  that  incident  now,  and  it  was  not  strange  that 
he  did  not  heed  his  mother  when  she  spoke,  for  Hugh  waa 
far  away  from  Spring  Bank,  and  the  storm  beating  agaiLSt 
its  walls  was  to  him  like  the  sound  of  the  waves  dashing 
against  the  vessel's  side,  just  as  they  did  years  ago  ou 
that  night  he  remembered  so  well,  shuddering  as  he  heard 
again  the  murderous  hiss  of  the  devoaiing  flames,  cover- 
ing the  fated  boat  with  one  sheet  of  fire,  and  driving  into 
the   water   as   a   safer   friend   the   shrieking,  frightened 
wretches  who  but  an  hour  before  had  been  so  full  of  life 
and  hope,  dancing  gayly  above  the  red-tongued  demon 
stealthily  creeping  upward  from  the  hold  below,  where  it 
had  taken  life.     What  a  feaiful  scene  that  was,  and  the 
veins  grew  larger  on  Hugh's  brow  while  his  broad  chest 
heaved  with  something  like  a  stifled  sob  as  he  recalled 
the  little  childish  form  to-  which  he  had  clung  so  madly 
until  the  cruel  timber  struck  from  him  all  consciousness, 
and  he  let  that  form  go  down  —  'neath  the  treacherous 
waters  of  Lake  Erie  never  to  come  up  again  alive,  for  so 
his  uncle  told  him  when,  weeks  after  the  occurence,  he 
awoke  fi-om  the  delirious  fever  which  ensued  and  listen- 
ed to  the  sickening  detail. 

''  Lost,  my  boy,  lost  with  many  others,"  was  what  his 
uncle  had  said. 

"  Lost "  —  there  was  a  world  of  meaning  in  that  .word 
to  Hugh  and  though  it  was  but  a  child  he  lost,  yet  in  the 
quiet  night,  when  all  else  around  Spring  Bank  was  locked 
in  sleep,  he  often  lay  thinking  of  her  and  of  what  he 
might  perhaps  have  been  had  she  been  spared  to  him. 
He  had  talked  with  her  scarcely  an  hour  in  all,  but  even 
in  that  time  she  had  made  upon  him  an  impression 
which  could  never  be  efiaced.     He  was  thinking  of  her 


SPRING    BANK.  11 

now,  and  as  he  thought,  visions  of  a  sweet,  young  face; 
shadowed  with  curls  of  golden  hair,  came  up  before  hi? 
mind,  and  he  saw  again  the  look  of  surprise  and  pain 
which  shone  in  the  soft,  blue  eyes  and  illuminated  every 
feature  when  in  answer  to  some  remark  of  hers  he  gave 
vent  to  the  half  infidel  principles  he  had  learned  from  his 
uncle.  Her  creed  was  different  from  his,  and  she  ex- 
plained it  to  him  so  earnestly,  that  he  said  to  her  at  last 
he  did  but  jest  to  hear  what  she  would  say,  and  though 
she  seemed  satisfied  he  felt  there  was  a  shadow  between 
them  which  was  not  swept  away,  even  after  he  promised 
to  read  the  Bible  she  timidly  offered  him  and  which  he 
had  accepted  wondering  at  her  interest  in  one  whose  name 
she  did  not  even  know.  Hers  was  written  on  the  fly-leaf 
of  the  little  book  which  he  had  yet  hidden  away  where 
no  curious  eye  could  find  it,  while  carefully  folded  between 
its  leaves  was  a  curl  of  golden  hair.  That  tress  and  the 
Bible  which  enclosed  it  had  made  Hugh  Worthington  a 
better  man.  He  did  not  often  read  the  Bible,  it  is  true, 
and  his  acquaintances  were  frequently  startled  with  opin- 
ions which  had  so  pained  the  little  girl  on  board  the  St. 
Helena,  but  this  was  merely  on  the  surface,  for  for  below 
the  rough  exterior  there  was  a  world  of  goodness,  a  mine 
of  gems  kept  bright  by  memories  of  the  angel  child  who 
flitted  for  so  brief  a  span  across  his  pathway  and  then 
was  lost  forever.  He  had  tried  so  hard  to  save  her  — 
had  clasped  her  so  fondly  to  his  bosom  when  with  extend- 
ed arms  she  came  to  him  for  aid.  He  could  save  her, 
he  said  —  he  could  swim  to  the  shore  with  perfect  ease  ; 
and  so  without  a  moment's  hesitation  she  had  leaped 
with  him  into  the  surging  waves,  and  that  was  about  the 
.ast  he  could  remember,  save  that  he  clutched  fi-antically 
at  the  long,  golden  hair  streaming  above  the  water,  re- 
taining in  his  grasp  the  lock  which  no  one  at  Spring 
Bank  had  ever  seen,  for  this  one  romance  of  Hugh's  life 
was  a  secret  with  himself  No  one  save  his  uncle  had 
witnessed  his  emotions  when  told  that  she  was  dead ;  no 


12  HUGH    WOBTHINGTON. 

one  else  had  seen  his  bitter  tears  or  heard  the  \ehement 
exclamation,  "You've  tried  to  teach  me  there  was  no 
hereafter,  no  Heaven  for  such  as  she,  but  I  know  better 
now,  and  I  am  glad  there  is,  for  she  is  safe  forever." 

These  were  not  idle  words,  and  the  belief  then  ex- 
pressed became  with  Hugh  Worthington  a  fixed  princii)le, 
whieh  his  skeptical  uncle  tried  in  vain  to  eradicate 
**  There  was  a  Heaven,  and  she  was  there,"  comprised 
nearly  the  whole  of  Hugh's  religious  creed,  if  we  except 
a  vague,  misty  hope,  that  he,  too,  would  some  day  find 
her,  how  or  by  what  means  he  .never  seriously  inquired  ; 
only  this  he  knew,  it  would  be  through  her  influence, 
which  even  now  followed  him  every  where,  producing  its 
good  eflTects.  It  had  diecked  him  many  and  many  a  time 
when  his  fierce  temper  was  in  the  ascendant,  forcing  back 
the  hai*sh  words  he  would  otherwise  have  spoken,  and  mak- 
ing him  as  gentle  as  a  child  :  and  when  the  temptations 
to  which  young  men  of  his  age  are  exposed  were  spread 
out  alluringly  before  him,  a  single  thought  of  her  was 
sufiicient  to  lead  him  from  the  forbidden  ground. 

Every  incident  connected  with  his  brief  acquaintance 
with  Golden  Hair  seemed  to  be  recalled  to  his  mind  this 
wintry  night,  and  so  absorbed  was  he  in  his  reverie  that 
until  twice  repeated  he  did  not  hear  his  mother's  anxious 
inquiry, 

"  What  is  that  noise  ?  It  sounds  like  some  one  in  dis- 
tress." 

Hugh  started  at  last,  and  after  listening  for  a  moment 
he,  too,  caught  the  sound  w^hich  had  alarmed  his  mother, 
and  made  'Lina  stop  her  reading.  A  moaning  cry,  as  if 
'br  help,  mingled  with  an  infant's  wail,  now  here,  now 
here  it  seemed  to  be,  just  as  the  fierce  north  wind  shift- 
ed its  course  and  drove  first  at  the  window  of  the  sitting 
room,  and  then  at  the  ponderous  doors  of  the  gloomy 
hall. 

"It  is  some  one  in  the  storm,"  Hugh  said,  going  to  the 
window  and  peering  out  into  the  darkness. 


SPRING    BANK.  13 

"Lyd's  child,  most  likely.  "Negro  young  ores  are 
always  squalling,  and  I  heard  her  tell  Aunt  Chloe  at  sup- 
per time  that  Tomraie  had  the  colic,"  'Lina  remarked, 
opening  again  the  book  she  was  reading,  and  with  a 
slight  shiver  drawing  nearer  to  the  fire. 

"  Where  are  you  going,  my  son  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Worth- 
•  ngton,  as  Hugh  arose  to  leave  the  room. 

"  Going  to  Lyd's  cabin,  for  if  Tommie  is  sick  enough  to 
make  his  screams  heard  above  the  storm,  she  may  need 
some  help,"  was  Hugh's  reply,  and  a  moment  after  he 
was  ploughing  his  way  through  the  drifts  which  lay  be- 
tween the  house  and  the  negro  quarters. 

"  How  kind  and  thoughtful  he  is,"  the  mother  said, 
more  to  herself  than  to  her  daughter,  who  nevertheless 
quickly  rejoined, 

"  Yes,  kind  to  niggers,  and  horses,  and  dogs,  I'll  admit^ 
but  let  me,  or  any  other  white  woman  come  before  him  as 
an  object  of  pity,  and  the  tables  .are .  turned  at  once.  I 
w^onder  w^hat  does  make  him  hate  women  so." 

"  I  don't  believe  he  does,"  Mrs.  Worthington  replied. 
"  His  uncle,  you  know,  was  very  unfortunate  in  his  mar- 
riage, and  had  a  way  of  judging  all  our  sex  by  his  wife. 
Living  with  him  as  long  as  Hugh  did,  it's  natural  he  should 
imbibe  a  few  of  his  ideas." 

"  A  few,"  'Lina  repeated,  "  better  say  all,  for  John  Stan- 
ley and  Hugh  Worthington  are  as  near  alike  as  an  old  and 
young  man  well  could  be.  What  an  old  codger  he  was, 
and  how  like  a  savage  he  lived  here.  I  never  shall  forget 
how  the  house  looked  the  day  we  came,  or  how  satisfied 
Hugh  seemed  when  he  met  us  at  the  gate,  and  said, '  every- 
thing was  in  splendid  order,'  "  and  closing  her  book,  the 
}  oung  lady  laughed  merrily  as  she  recalled  the  time  when 
she  first  crossed  her  brother's  threshold,  stepping,  as  she 
aflirmed,  over  half  a  dozen  dogs,  and  as  many  squirming 
kittens,  catching  her  foot  in  some  fishing  tackle,  finding 
tobacco  in  the  china  closet,  and  segars  in  the  knife  box, 
where  they  had  been  put  to  get   them  out  of  the  way. 


14  HUGH   WORTHINGTON. 

**Biit  Iliigh  really  did  his  best  for  us,"  mildly  interposed 
the  mother.  "Don't  you  remember  what  the  servants 
said  about  liis  cleaning  one  floor  himself  because  he  knew 
they  were  tired  !  " 

"  Did  it  more  to  save  the  lazy  negroes'  steps  than  from 
any  regard  for  our  comfort,"  retorted  'Lina.  "  At  all 
events  he's  been  mighty  careful  since,  how  he  gratified 
my  wishes.  Sometimes  I  believe  he  perfectly  hates  me, 
and  wishes  I'd  never  been  born,"  and  tears  which  arose 
from  anger,  rather  than  any  wounded  sisterly  feeling, 
glittered  in  'Lina's  black  eyes. 

"  Hugh  does  not  hate  any  one,"  said  Mrs.  Worthington, 
"  much  less  his  sister,  though  you  must  admit  that  you  try 
him  terribly." 

"  How,  I'd  like  to  know  ?  "  'Lina  asked,  and  her  moth 
er  replied, 

"  He  thinks  you  proud,  and  vain,  and  artificial,  and 
you  know  he  abhors  deceit  above  all  else.  Why  he'd 
cut  off  his  right  hand  sooner  than  tell  a  lie." 

"Pshaw!"  was  'Lina's  contemptuous  response,  then 
after  a  moment,  she  continued,  "I  wonder  how  we  came 
to  be  so  different.  He  must  be  like  his  father,  and  I  like 
mine,  that  is,  supposing  I  know  who  he  is.  Wouldn't  it 
be  funny  if,  just  to  be  hateful,  he  had  sent  you  back  the 
wroTig  child ! " 

«  What  made  you  think  of  that  ?  "  Mrs.  Worthington 
asked,  quickly,  and  'Lina  replied, 

"  0-1,  nothing,  only  the  last  time  Hugh  had  one  of  liis 
tantrums,  and  got  so  outrageously  angry  at  me,  he  said 
he'd  give  all  he  owned  if  it  were  so,  but  I  reckon  heMl 
ne'er  have  his  wish.  There's  too  much  of  old  Sam  about 
me  to  admit  of  a  doubt,  and,  laughing  spitefully,  'Lina  re- 
turned to  her  book,  just  as  Hugh  re-entered  the  room. 

"  Have  you  heard  that  sound  again  ?  "  he  asked.  "  It 
wasn  t  Tommie,  for  I  found  him  asleep,  and  I've  been  all 
roun^  the  house,  but  could  discover  nothing.     The  stoiTO 


SPBING    BANK.  16 

is  beginning  to  abate,  I  think,  and  the  moon  is  trying  to 
br(3ak  through  the  clouds,"  and  going  again  to  the  win- 
dow, Hugh  looked  out  into  the  yai'd,  where  the  shrub 
bery  and  trees  were  just  discernible  in  the  greyish  light  of 
the  December  moon.  "That's  a  big  drift  by  the  lower 
gate,"  he  continued  *  "  and  queer  shaped,  too.  Come  see, 
mother.  Isn't  that  a  shawl,  or  an  apron,  or  soraethinfj 
blowing  in  the  wind  ?  " 

Mrs.  Worthington  arose,  and  joining  her  son,  looked  in 
the  direction  indicated,  where  a  garment  of  some  kind 
was  certainly  fluttering  in  tlie  gale. 

"  It's  something  from  the  wash,  I  guess,"  she  said.  "  I 
thought  all  the  time  Hannah  had  better  not  hang  out  the 
clothes,  as  some  of  them  were  sure  to  be  lost." 

This  explanation  was  quite  satisfactory  to  Mrs.  Worth- 
ington,  but  that  strange  drift  by  the  gate  troubled  Hugh, 
and  the  signal  above  it  seemed  lo  him  like  a  signal  of  dis- 
tress. Why  should  the  snow  drift  there  more  than  else- 
where ?  He  never  knew  it  do  so  before.  He  had  half 
a  mind  to  turn  out  the  dogs,  and  see  what  that  would  do. 

"  Rover,''  he  called  suddenly,  as  he  advanced  to  the 
rear  room,  where,  among  his  other  pets,  was  a  huge  New- 
foundland, of  great  sagacity.  "  Rover,  Rover,  I  want 
you." 

In  an  instant  the  whole  pack  were  upon  him,  jumping 
and  fawning,  and  licking  the  hands  which  had  never 
dealt  them  aught  save  kindness.  It  was  only  Rover, 
however,  who  was  this  tim:j  needed,  and  leading  him  to 
the  door,  Hugh  pointed  toward  the  gate,  and  bade  him 
see  what  was  there.  Snuffing  slightly  at  the  storm  which 
was  not  over  yet,  Rover  started  down  the  walk,  while 
Hugh  stood  waiting  m  the  door.  At  flrst  Rover's  steps 
were  slow  and  uncertain,  but  as  he  advanced  they  in- 
creased in  rapidity,  until,  .with  a  sudden  bound  and  a  cry, 
such  as  dogs  are  wont  to  give  when  they  have  caught 
then*  destined  prey,  he  sprang  upon  the  mysterious  rivlge, 
and  commenced  digging  it  down  with  his  paws. 


16  filTGH   WOKTHINGTON. 

**  Easy,  Rover  —  be  careful,"  Hugh  called  from  tLe 
door,  and  instantly  the  half  savage  growl  which  the  wind 
had  brought  to  his  ear  was  changed  into  a  ])iteous  cry,  aa 
if  the  faithful  creature  were  answering  back  that  other 
help  than  his  was  needed  there. 

Kover  had  found  something  in  that  pile  of  snow. 


CHAPTER  II. 

WHAT  ROVER  FOUND. 

Unmindful  of  the  sleet  beating  upon  his  uncovered  head, 
Hugh  hastened  to  the  spot,  where  the  noble  brute  was 
licking  a  baby  face,  which  he  had  ferreted  out  from  l«- 
neath  the  shawl  wrapped  so  carefully  around  it  to  shic  Id 
It  from  the  cold,  for  instead  of  one  there  were  two  in  that 
**'*^«  of  snow  —  a  mother  and  her  child  !  Dead  the  for- 
mer seemed,  for  the  white  cheek  which  Hugh  touched  iv^as 
cold  as  stone,  and  with  a  sickening  feeling  the  young  »Qao 
leaned  against  the  gate-post  and  tried  to  assure  himtelf 
that  what  he  saw  was  a  mere  fancy  of  the  brain.  Bat  it 
was  terribly  real.  That  stiffened  form  lying  there  so  still 
hugging  that  sleeping  child  so  closely  to  its  bosom,  was 
no  delusion,  and  his  mother's  voice,  calling  to  know  what 
he  was  doing,  brought  Hugh  back  at  last  to  a  conscious* 
ness  that  he  must  act  immediately. 

"Mother,"  he  screamed,  "send  a  servant  here,  quick, 
or  let  Ad  come  herself.  There's  a  woman  dead,  I  fear.  I 
*an  carry  her  well  enough,  but  Ad  must  come  for  the 
hild." 

"  The  what  ?  "  gasped  Mrs.  Worthington,  who,  terrified 
beyond  measure  at  the  mention  of  a  dead  woman,  waa 
doubly  so  at  hearing  of  a  child.  "A  child,"  she  repeat- 
ed, "  whose  child?"  while  'Liua,  shrinking  back  from  the 


WHAT    ROVEK   FOUND.  li 

keen  blast,  refused  to  obey,  and  so  the  mother,  throwing 
her  cloak  around  her,  joined  the  group  by  the  gate. 

Carefully  Hugh  lifted  the  light  figure  in  his  arms  and 
bore  it  to  the  house,  where  'Lina,  whose  curiosity  had  over- 
ercome  her  selfishness,  met  him  on  the  piazza  and  led  the 
way  to  the  sitting-room,  asking  innumerable  questions  aa 
to  how  he  found  her  and  who  she  was. 

Hugh  made  no  reply  save  an  order  that  the  lounge 
should  be  brought  near  the  fire  and  a  pillow  from  his 
mother's  bed.  "  From  mine,  then,"  he  added,  as  he  saw 
the  anxious  look  in  his  mother's  face,  and  guessed  that 
she  shrank  from  having  her  own  snowy  pillow  come  in 
contact  with  the  wet,  limpid  figure  he  was  depositing  up- 
on the  lounge.  It  was  a  slight,  girlish  form,  and  the  long 
brown  hair,  loosened  from  its  confinement,  fell  in  rich  pro- 
fusion over  the  pillow  which  'Lina  brought  half  reluctant- 
ly, eyeing  askance  the  insensible  object  before  her,  and 
daintily  holding  back  her  dress  lest  it  should  come  in  con- 
tact with  the  child  her  mother  had  deposited  upon  the 
floor,  where  it  lay  crying  lustily,  unnoticed  save  by  Rov- 
er, who,  quite  as  awkward  as  his  master  would  have  been 
in  like  circumstances,  seemed  ti-ying  to  amuse  and  protect 
it,  interposing  his  shaggy  proportions  between  that  and 
the  fire  when  once  it  showed  a  disposition  to  creep  that 
way. 

"Do  one  of  you  do  something^  Hugh  said,  as  he  saw 
how  indisposed  both  his  mother  and  sister  were  to  help, 
the  former  being  too  much  frightened  and  the  latter  too 
indignant  to  act. 

The  idea  of  a  strange  woman  being  thrust  upon  them 
in  this  way  was  highly  displeasing  to  Miss  'Lina,  who 
haughtily  drew  back  from  the  little  one  when  it  stretched 
its  arms  out  toward  her,  while  its  pretty  lip  quivered  and 
the  tears  dropped  over  its  rounded  cheek.  To  her  it  waa 
nothing  but  an  intruder,  a  brat,  and  so  she  steeled  her 
heart  against  its  touching  appeal,  and  turned  her  back  up- 


18  HUGH    WORIHINGTON 

on  it,  leaving  for  Rover  the  kindly  office  of  soothing  the 
infant. 

Meantime  Hugh,  with  all  a  woman's  tenderness,  had 
done  for  the  now  reviving  stranger  what  he  could,  and  as 
his  mother  began  to  collect  her  scattered  senses  and  evince 
some  interest  in  the  matter,  he  withdrew  to  call  the  no- 
gi'oes,  judging  it  prudent  to  remain  away  awhile,  as  his 
presence  might  be  an  intrusion.  From  the  firet  he  had 
felt  sure  that  the  individual  thrown  upon  his  charity  wafl 
not  a  low,  vulgar  person,  as  his  sister  seemed  to  think. 
He  had  not  yet  seen  her  face  distinctly,  for  it  lay  in  the 
shadow,  but  the  long,  flowing  hair,  the  delicate  hands,  the 
white  neck,  of  which  he  had  caught  a  glimpse  as  his 
mother  unflistened  the  stiffened  dress,  all  these  had  made 
an  impression,  and  involuntarily  repeating  to  himself, 
"Poor  girl,"  he  strode  a  second  time  across  the  drifts 
which  lay  in  his  back  yard  and  was  soon  pounding  at  old 
Ohloe's  cabin  door,  bidc'ing  her  and  Hannah  dress  at  once 
and  come  immediately  to  the  house. 

"  They  will  need  hot  water  most  likely,"  he  thought 
and  returning  to  the  kitchen  he  built  the  fire  himself  and 
then  sat  down  to  wait  until  such  time  as  it  was  proper  for 
him  to  appear  again  in  the  sitting-room,  where  a  strange 
scene  was  enacting. 

The  change  of  atmosphere  and  the  restoratives  applied 
had  done  their  work,  and  Mrs.  Worthington  saw  that  the 
long  eyelashes  began  to  tremble,  while  a  faint  color  stole 
into  the  hitherto  colorless  cheeks,  and  at  last  the  large, 
brown  eyes  unclosed  and  looked  into  hers  with  an  expres- 
sion so  mournful,  that  a  thrill  of  yearning  tenderness  for 
the  desolate  young  creature  shot  through  her  heart,  and 
bending  down  she  said,  kindly,  "  Are  you  better  now  ?  " 

"  Yes,  thank  you.  Where  is  Willie  ?  "  was  the  low  re- 
sponse, the  tone  of  the  voice  thrilling  Mrs.  Worthington 
with  an  undefinable  emotion.  Even  'Lina  started,  it  was 
so  low,  so  sweet,  so  musical,  and  coming  near  she  answer- 


WHAT   ROVER   FOUND.  19 

ed  *  If  it's  the  baby  you  mean,  he  is  here,  playing  with 
our  (log,  Rover." 

There  was  a  look  of  gratitude  in  the  brown  eyes,  while 
the  white  lips  moved  slowly,  and  Mrs.  Worthington  caught 
the  whispered  words  of  thanksgiving  that  baby  Willie 
1?as  safe. 

"  Where  am  I  ?  she  said  next,  and  is  he  here  ?  Is  this 
Lis  house  ?  " 

"  Whose  house  ?  "  Mrs.  Worthington  asked.  Whom 
are  you  looking  for  ?  " 

The  girl  did  not  answer  at  once,  and  when  she  did  her 
mind  seemed  wandering. 

"  I  waited  so  long,"  she  said,  "  and  watched  from  morn- 
ing till  dark,  but  he  never  came  again,  only  the  letter 
which  broke  my  heart.  Willie  was  a  wee  baby  then,  and 
I  almost  hated  him  for  awhile,  but  he  wasn't  to  blame, 
i" wasn't  to  blame.  Our  Father  in  Heaven  knew  I  wasn't 
and  after  I  went  to  him  and  told  him  all  about  it,  and 
asked  him  to  care  for  Adah,  the  first  terrible  pain  was  over 
and  love  for  Willie  came  back  with  a  hope  that  the  letter 
might  be  false.  I'm  glad  God  gave  me  Willie  now,  even 
if  he  did  take  his  father  from  me." 

Mrs.  Worthington  and  her  daughter  exchanged  curious 
glances  of  wonder,  and  the  latter  abruptly  asked, 

"  Where  is  Willie's  father?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  came  in  a  wailing  sob  from  the  depths 
of  the  pillow  where  the  face  for  a  moment  hid  itself  from 
view.  ^     , 

"  Where  did  you  come  from  ?  "  was  the  next  question, 
put  in  a  tone  so  cold  and  harsh  that  the  young  girl  looked 
tip  in  some  alarm,  and  answered  meekly, 

«  From  New  York,  ma'am.  It's  a  great  ways  oS,  and  1 
thought  I'd  never  get  here,  but  every  body  was  so  kind  to 
me  and  Willie,  and  the  driver  said  if  'twan't  so  late,  and 
he  so  many  passengers,  he'd  drive  across  the  fields.  He 
pointed  out  the  way  and  I  came  on  alone.    I  saw  the  light 


20  HUGH   WORTHIXGTON. 

off  on  tlie  hill  and  tned  to  hurry,  but  the  snow  blinded  me 
so  bad  and  Willie  was  so  heavy,  that  I  fell  down  by  the 
gate,  and  guess  I  went  to  sleep,  for  I  remember  dreaming 
that  the  angels  were  watching  over  me,  and  covering 
Willie  with  the  snow  to  keep  him  warm." 

The  color  had  faded  now  from  Mrs.  Worthington's  face, 
fur  a  terrible  suspicion  of  she  scarcely  knew  what  had  dart- 
ed across  her  mind,  and  very  timidly  she  asked  again, 

"  Whom  did  you  hope  to  find  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Worthington.  Does  he  live  here  ?  "  was  the  frank 
reply  ;  whereupon  'Lina,  with  crimsoning  cheek,  drew  her- 
self up  haughtily,  exclaiming, 

"  I  knew  it.  I've  thought  so  ever  since  Hugh  came  home 
from  New  York." 

In  her  joy  at  having,  as  she  supposed,  found  something 
tangible  against  her  provoking  brother  —  some  weapon 
with  which  to  ward  off  his  offensive  attacks  upon  her  own 
deceit  and  want  of  truth  —  'Lina  forgot  that  she  had  never 
seen  much  of  him  until  several  months  after  his  return 
fi'om  New  York,  at  which  time  she  had  become,  from  ne- 
cessity, a  member  of  his  household  and  dependent  upon 
his  bounty.  'Lina  was  unreasonable,  and  without  stopping 
to  consider  the  effect  her  remarks  would  have  upon  the 
young  girl,  she  was  about  to  commence  a  tirade  of  abuse, 
when  the  mother  interposed,  and  with  an  air  of  greater 
authority  than  she  generally  assumed  toward  her  imperi- 
ous daughter,  bade  her  keep  silence  while  she  questioned 
the  stranger,  gazing  wonderingly  from  one  to  the  other, 
as  if  uncertain  what  they  meant. 

Mrs.  Worthington  had  no  such  feelings  for  the  girl  as 
'Lina  entertained.  If  she  were  anything  to  Hugh,  and  th 
circumstances  thus  far  favored  that  belief,  then  she  was 
something  to  Hugh's  mother,  and  the  kind  heart  of  the 
matron  went  out  toward  her  even  more  strongly  than  it 
had  done  at  first. 

"  It  will  be  easier  to  talk  with  you,"  sho  said  leaning 
forward,  « if  I  knew  what  to  call  you." 


WHAT   ROVER   POUND.  21 

**  Adah,"  was  the  response,  and  the  brown  eyes,  swim- 
ming with  tears,  sought  the  face  of  the  questioner  with  a 
wistful  eaorerness. 

"Adah,  you  say.  Well,  then,  Adah,  why  have  you 
come  to  my  son  oi?  iuch  a  night  as  this,  and  what  is  he  to 
you?"  . 

"Are  you  his  mother?"  and  Adah  started  up.    *  I  di,d^ 
not  know  he  had  one.     "  Oh,  I'm  so  glad.    And  you'll  be 
kind  to  me,  who  never  had  a  mother? " 

A  person  who  never  had  a  mother  was  an  anomaly  to 
Mrs.  Worthington,  whose  powers  of  comprehension  were 
not  the  clearest  imaginable. 

"  Never  had  a  mother ! "  she  repeated.  "  How  can  that 
be?" 

A  smile  flitted  for  a  moment  across  Adah's  pale  face, 
and  then  she  answered, 

"  I  never  knew  a  mother's  care,  I  mean.  There  is  some 
mystery  which  I  could  not  fiithom,  only  sometimes  there 
comes  up  visions  of  a  cottage  with  water  near,  and  there's 
a  lady  there  with  voice  and  eyes  like  yours,  and  somebody 
is  teaching  me  to  walk  —  somebody  who  calls  me  little 
sister,  though  I've  never  seen  him  since.  Then  there  is 
confusion,  a  rolling  of  wheels,  and  a  hum  of  some  great 
city,  and  that's  all  I  know  of  mother." 

"  But  your  father  ?  What  do  you  know  of  him  ?  "  said 
Mrs.  "Worthington,  and  instantly  a  shadow  stole  into  the 
Bweet  young  face,  as  Adah  replied,  "  Nothing  definite." 

"And  Hugh?  Where  did  you  meet  him ?  And  what 
is  he  to  you  ?  " 

"  The  only  friend  I've  got  in  the  wide  world  May  I 
tee  him,  please  ?  " 

"First  tell  what  he  is  to  you  and  to  this  child,** 
'Lina  rejoined,  her  black  eyes  flashing  with  a  gleam,  be- 
fore which  the  brown  eyes  for  an  instant  quailed ;  then 
as  if  something  of  a  like  spirit  were  called  to  life  in  her 
bosom,  Adah  answered  calmly, 


22  HUGH   WOETHINGTON'. 

"  Your  brother  might  not  like  me  to  tell.  I  must  see 
Lira  first  —  see  him  alone." 

"  One  thing  more,"  and  'Lina  held  back  her  mother 
who  was  starting  in  quest  of  Ilugli,  "  are  you  a  wife  ?  " 

"Don't,  'Lina,"  Mrs.  Worthington  whispered,  as  she 
saw  the  look  of  agony  pass  over  Adah's  face.  "Don't 
worry  her  so  ;  deal  kindly  by  the  fallen." 

'^  I  am  not  fallen !  "  came  passionately  from  the  quiver- 
ing lips.  "  I'm  as  true  a  woman  as  either  of  you  — 
look !  "  and  she  pointed  to  the  golden  band  encircling  the 
third  finger. 

'Lina  was  satisfied,  and  needed  no  further  explanations. 
To  her,  it  was  plain  as  daylight.  Two  years  before  Hugh 
had  gone  to  New  Yoi-k  on  business  connected  with  hia 
late  uncle's  afiliirs,  and  in  an  unguarded  moment  had  mar- 
ried some  poor  girl,  whose  pretty  face  had  pleased  his  fan- 
cy. Tiring  of  her,  as  of  course  he  would,  he  had  desert- 
ed her,  keeping  his  marriage  a  secret,  and  she  had  followed 
him  to  Spring  Bank.  These  were  the  facts  as  'Lina  read 
them,  and  though  she  despised  her  brother  for  it,  she  was 
more  than  half  glad.  Hugh  could  never  taunt  her  again 
with  double  dealing,  for  wouldn't  she  pay  him  back  if  he 
did,  with  his  neglected,  disowned  wife  and  child  ?  She 
knew  they  were  his,  and  it  was  a  resemblance  to  Hugh, 
which  she  had  noticed  from  the  first  in  Willie's  face. 
How  glad  'Lina  was  to  have  this  hold  upon  her  brother, 
and  how  eagerly  she  went  in  quest  of  him,  keeping  back 
0  Id  Chloe  and  Hannah  until  she  had  witnessed  his  humili- 
ation. 

Somewhat  impatient  of  the  long  delay,  Hugh  sat  in  the 
dingy  kitchen,  watching  the  tallow  candle  spluttering  ia 
kls  iron  socket,  and  wondering  who  it  was  he  had  rescued 
from  the  snow,  when  'Lina  appeared,  and  with  an  air  of 
injured  dignity,  bade  him  follow  her. 

"  What's  up  now  that  Ad  looks  so  solemn  like  ?  "  was 
Hugh's  mental  comment  as  he  took  his  way  to  the  room 


WHAT   ROVER   FOUND.  23 

where,  in  a  half  reclining  position  Adah  lay,  her  large, 
bright  eyes  fixed  eagerly  upon  the  door  through  which 
he  entered,  and  a  bright  flush  upon  her  cheek  called  up 
by  the  suspicions  to  which  she  had  been  subjected. 

Perhaps  they  might  be  true.  She  did  not  know.  No- 
body knew  or  could  tell  her  unless  it  were  Hugh,  and  she 
waited  for  him  so  anxiously,  starting  when  she  heard  a 
manly  step  and  knew  that  he  was  coming.  For  an  in- 
stant she  scanned  his  face  curiously  to  assure  herself  that 
it  was  he,  then  with  an  imploring  cry  as  if  for  him  to 
save  her  from  some  dreaded  evil  she  stretched  her  little 
hands  toward  him  and  sobbed,  "  Mr.  Worthington,  was  it 
true  ?  Was  it  a  real  thing,  or  only  sheer  mockery,  as  his 
letter  said  ?  George,  George  Hastings,  you  know,"  and 
shedding  back  from  her  white  face  the  wealth  of  flowing 
hair,  Adah  waited  for  the  answer,  which  did  not  come  at 
once.  In  utter  amazement  Hugh  gazed  upon  the  stranger, 
and  then  with  an  interjection  of  astonishment,  exclaimed, 

"  Adah,  Adah  Hastings,  why  are  you  here  ?  " 

In  the  tone  of  his  voice  sui*j)rise  w^as  mingled  with  dis- 
approbation, the  latter  of  which  Adah  detected  at  once, 
and  as  if  it  had  crushed  out  the  last  lingering  hope,  she 
covered  her  face  with  her  hands  and  sobbed  piteously, 

"  Don't  you  turn  against  me,  or  I'll  surely  die,  and  I've 
come  so  far  to  find  you." 

By  this  time  Hugh  was  himself  again.  His  rapid, 
quick-seeing  mind  had  taken  in  both  the  past  and  the 
present,  and  turning  to  his  mother  and  sister,  he  said, 

"Leave  us  alone  for  a  time.  I  will  call  you  when  you 
are  needed  and.  Ad,  remember,  no  listening  by  the  dooi," 
he  continued,  as  he  saw  how  disappointed  'Lina  seemed. 

Rather  reluctantly  Mrs.  Worthington  and  her  daughter 
Icll  the  room,  and  Hugh  was  alone  with  Adah,  whose 
face  was  still  hidden  in  her  hands,  and  whose  body  shook 
with  strong  emotion.  Deliberately  turning  the  key  m  the 
lock,  Hugh  advanced  to  her  side,  and  kneeling  by  the 


24  HUGH   WOSTHrnGTON-. 

couch,  said,  kindly,  "  I  am  more  pained  to  see  you  here 
than  I  can  well  express.  Why  did  you  come,  and  where 
ifl ?" 

The  name  was  lost  to  'Lina,  listening  outside,  in  spite 
^f  her  brother's  injunction.  Neither  could  she  under 
land  the  passionate,  inaudible  response.  She  onl}  know 
that  sobs  and  tears  were  mingled  with  it,  that  there  waa 
a  rustling  of  paper,  which  Adah  bade  Hugh  read,  asking 
if  it  were  true.  This  was  all  'Lina  could  hear,  and  mut- 
tering to  herself,  "  It  does  not  sound  much  like  man  and 
and  wife,"  she  rather  unwillingly  quitted  her  position,  and 
and  Hugh  was  really  alone  with  Adah. 

Never  was  Hugh  in  so  awkward  a  position  before,  or  so 
uncertain  how  to  act.  The  sight  of  that  sobbing,  trem- 
bling, wretched  creature,  had  perfectly  unmanned  him, 
making  him  almost  as  much  a  woman  as  herself.  Sitting 
do^vn  by  her  side,  he  laid  her  poor  aching  head  upon  his 
own  broad  bosom,  and  pushing  back  her  long,  bright  hair, 
tried  to  soothe  her  into  quiet,  while  he  candidly  confessed 
that  he  feared  the  letter  was  true.  It  had  occurred  to 
him  at  the  time,  he  said,  that  all  was  not  right,  but  he  had 
no  suspicion  that  it  could  be  so  bad  as  it  now  seemed  or 
he  would  have  felled  to  the  floor  every  participant  in  the 
cruel  farce,  which  had  so  darkened  Adah's  life.  It  was  a 
dastardly  act,  he  said,  pressing  closer  to  him  the  light 
form  quivering  with  anguish.  He  knew  how  innocent 
ehe  was,  and  he  held  her  in  his  arms  as  he  would  once 
have  held  the  Golden  Haired  had  she  come  to  him  with 
a  tale  of  woe. 

"  Let  me  see  that  letter  again,"  he  said,  and  taking  the 
'•rumpled  sheet,  stained  with  Adah's  tears,  he  turned  it  to 
the  light  and  read  once  more  the  cruel  lines,  in  which 
there  was  still  much  of  love  and  pity  for  the  pooi  helpless 
thing,  to  whom  they  were  addressed. 

"  You  will  surely  find  friends  who  will  care  for  you, 
until  the  time  when  I  may  come  to  really  make   vou 


WHAT  ROVER   FOUKD.  26 

Hugh  repeated  these  words  twice,  aloud,  his  lip  curliug 
with  contempt  for  the  man  who  could  so  coolly  thrust  up- 
on others  a  charge  which  should  have  been  so  sacred  ;  and 
his  heart,  throbbing  with  the  noble  resolve,  that  the  confi- 
dence she  had  placed  in  him  by  coming  there,  should  not 
be  abused,  for  he  would  be  true  to  the  trust,  and  care  for 
poor,  little,  half-crazed  Adah,  moaning  so  piteously  beside 
him,  and  as  he  read  the  last  Hne,  saying  eagerly, 

"  lie  speaks  of  coming  back.  Do  you  think  he  ever 
will  ?  or  could  I  find  him  if  I  should  try  ^  I  thought  of 
starting  once,  but  it  was  so  far;  and  there  was  Willie. 
Oh,  if  he  could  see  Willie !  Mr.  Worthington,  do  you 
believe  he  loves  me  one  bit  ?  "  and  in  the  eyes  there  was 
a  look  as  if  the  poor  creature  were  famishing  for  the  love 
whose  existence  she  was  questioning. 

Hu2:h  did  not  understand  the  nature  of  a  love  which 
could  so  deliberately  abandon  one  like  Adah.  It  was  not 
(guch  love  as  he  had  cherished  for  the  Golden  Haired, 
hut  men  were  not  alike ;  and  so  he  said,  at  last,  that  the 
ietter  contained  many  assurances  of  affection,  and  plead- 
mgs  for  forgiveness  for  the  great  wrong  committed. 

"  It  seems  family  pride  has  something  to  do  with  it.  I 
wonder  where  his  people  live,  or  who  they  are  ?  Did  he 
never  tell  you  ?  " 

"  No  ;  "  and  Adah  shook  her  head  mournfully.  "  There 
was  something  strange  about  it.  He  never  gave  me  the 
slightest  clue.  He  only  told  how  proud  they  were,  and 
how  they  would  spurn  a  poor  girl  like  me  ;  and  said,  we 
must  keep  it  a  secret  until  he  had  won  them  over.  If  I 
could  only  find  them !  "  i 

"  Would  you  go  to  them  ?  "  Hugh  asked  quickly ;  and 
Adah  answered, 

"  Sometimes  I've  thought  I  would.  I'd  brave  his  proud 
mother  —  I'd  lay  Willie  in  her  lap.  I'd  tell  her  whose  he 
was,  and  then  I'd  go  away  and  die.  They  could  not  harm 
my  Willie  ! "  and  the  young  girl  mother  glanced  proudly 


26  HUGH    WORTHIXGTON. 

at  her  sleeping  boy.  Then,  after  a  pause,  she  continued, 
"  Once,  Mr.  Worthingtou,*when  ray  brain  was  all  on  fire, 
I  went  down  to  the  river,  and  said  I'd  end  my  wretched 
life,  but  God,  who  was  watching  me,  lield  me  back.  IIo 
cooled  my  scorching  head  —  he  eased  the  pain,  and  on 
*^the  very  spot  where  I  meant  to  jump,  I  kneeled  down  and 
Baid, 'Our  Father.'  No  other  words  would  come,  only 
these,  *  Lead  us  not  into  temptation.'  Wasn't  it  kind  in 
God  to  save  me  ?  " 

There  was  a  radiant  expression  in  the  sweet  face  as  Adah 
Baid  this,  but  it  quickly  passed  away  and  was  succeeded 
by  one  of  deep  concern,  when  Hugh  abruptly  asked, 

"  Do  you  believe  in  God  ?  " 

"Oh,  Mr.  Worthington.  Don't  you?  You  do,  you 
must,  you  will,"  and  Adah  shrank  away  from  him  as  from 
a  monster. 

The  action  reminded  him  of  the  Golden  Haired,  when 
on  the  deck  of  the  St.  Helena  he  had  asked  her  a  similar- 
question,  and  anxious  further  to  probe  the  opinion  of  the 
girl  beside  him,  he  continued, 

"If,  as  you  think,  there  is  a  God  who  knew  and  saw 
when  you  were  about  to  drown  yourself,  why  didn't  he 
prevent  the  cruel  wrong  to  you?  Why  did  he  suffer 
it?" 

"What  He  does  we  know  not  now,  but  we  shall  know 
hereafter,"  Adah  said,  reverently,  adding,  "  If  George  had 
feared  God,  he  would  not  have  left  me  so  ;  but  he  didn't, 
and  perhaps  he  says  there  is  no  God  —  but  you  don't, 
Mr.  Worthinojton.  Your  face  don't  look  like  it.  Tell  me 
*lyou  believe,"  and  in  her  eagerness  Adah  grasped  his  arm  ^ 
fcoseechingly.  I 

"Yes,  Adah,  I  believe,"  Hugh  answered,  half  jestingly,  | 
•*  but  it's  such  as  you  that  make  me  believe,  and  as  per- 
sons of  your  creed  think  every  t-hing  is  ordered  for  good, 
BO  possibly  you  were  permitted  to  suffer  that  you  might 
come  here  and  benefit  me.  I  think  I  must  keep  you  untiJ 
•le  is  found." 


WHAT    ROVER    POUND.  27 

"ISTo,  no,"  and  the  tears  flowed  at  once,  « I  cannot  be  a 
burthen  to  you.     I  have  no  claim." 

"Why  then  did  you  come  at  all?"  Hugh  asked,  and 
Adah  answered, 

«  For  a  time  after  I  received  the  letter  every  thing  was 
[  o^  dark  that  I  didn't  realize,  and  couldn't  think  of  any 
hing.  But  when  the  landlady  hinted  those  terrible 
thmgs,  and  finally  told  me  I  must  leave  to  give  place  to 
a  respectable  woman,  that's  just  what  she  said,  a  respecta^ 
lie  woman,  with  a  cliild  who  knew  its  own  flither,  then  I 
woke  up  and  tried  to  think  of  something,  but  the  more  I 
tried,  the  more  I  couldn't,  till  at  last  I  i^rayed  so  hard  one 
night,  that  God  would  tell  me  what  to  do,  and  suddenly 
I  remembered  you  and  your  good,  kind,  honest  face,  just 
as  It  looked  when  you  spoke  to  me  after  it  was  over,  and 
called  me  by  the  new  name.  Oh,  dear,  oh,  dear,"  and 
gasping  for  breath,  Adah  leaned  against  Hugh's  arm,  sob- 
bing bitterly. 

After  a  moment  she  grew  calm  again,  and  continued, 
"  I  wrote  down  your  name,  and  where  you  lived,  though 
why  I  did  not  know,  and  I  forgot  where  I  put  it,  but  asif 
God  really  were  helping  me  I  found  it  in  my  old  .port  folio, 
and  something  bade  me  come,  for  you  perhaps  would 
know  if  it  was  true.  It  Avas  sometime  before  I  could 
fully  decide  to  come,  and  in  that  time  I  hardly  know  how  I 
lived,  or  wliere.  George  left  me  money,  and  sent  more, 
but  it's  most  gone  now.  But  I  must  not  stay.  I  can 
take  care  of  myself 

"What  can  you  do?"  Hugh  asked,  and  Adah  rerlied, 
sadly, 

«I  don't  know,  but  God  will  find  me  somethin^r.     \ 

ever  worked   much,  but  I  can  learn,  and  I  can  ah^eady 

ew  neatly,  too;  besides  that,  a  few  days  before  I  deci- 

ded  to  come  here,  I  advertised   in  the  Herald  for  some 

place  as  governess  or  ladies'  waiting-maid.     Perhaps  I'll 

hear  from  that." 


28  HUGH    WORTHINGTON. 

"It's  harclly  possible.  Siicli  advertisements  are  thick 
as  blackberries,"  Hugh  said,  and  then  in  a  few  brief 
words,  he  marked  out  Adah's  future  course. 

George  Hastings  might  or  might  not  return  to  claim 
her,  and  whether  he  did  or  didn't,  she  must  live  meantime, 
and  where  so  well  as  at  Spring  Bank. 

"  I  do  not  like  women  much,"  he  said,  but  something 
makes  me  like  you,  pity,  I  reckon,  and  Pm  going  to  take 
«are  of  you  until  that  scoundrel  turns  up ;  then,  if  you 
say  so,  I'll  surrender  you  to  his  care,  or  better  yet,  I'll 
shoot  him  and  keep  you  to  myself.  Not  as  a  sweetheart, 
or  anything  of  that  kind,"  he  hastened  to  add,  as  he  saw 
the  flush  on  Adah's  cheek.  "  Hugh  AYorthington  has 
nothing  to  do  with  that  species  of  the  animal  kingdom, 
but  as  my  sister  Adah  ! "  and  as  Hugh  repeated  that  name, 
there  arose  in  his  great  heart  an  undefinable  wish  that 
the  gentle  girl  beside  him  had  been  his  sister  instead  of 
^he  high  tempered  Adaline,  who  never  tried  to  conciliate 
>r  understand  him,  and  whom  Hugh  could  not  love  as 
brothers  should  love  sisters. 

He  knew  how  impatiently  she  was  waiting  now  to  know 
the  result  of  that  interview,  and  just  how  much  opposition 
he  should  meet  w^hen  he  announced  his  intention  of  keep- 
ing Adah.  But  Hugh  was  master  of  Spring  Bank ;  his 
•will  was  all  powerful,  and  not  an  entire  world  could  move 
him  when  once  he  was  determined.  Still  contention  was 
not  agreeable,  and  he  oftentimes  yielded  a  point  rather 
than  dispute.  But  this  time  he  w^as  firm.  Without  any 
intention  of  wronging  Adah,  he  still  felt  as  if  in  some 
way  he  had  been  instrumental  to  her  ruin,  and  now  when 
b1i3  crnie  to  him  for  help,  he  would  not  cast  her  ofl^ 
though  the  keeping  her  would  subject  him  to  a  multitude 
of  unjkeasant  remarks,  surmises  and  suspicions  from  the 
people  of  Glen's  Creek,  to  say  nothing  of  his  mother's 
and  'Lina's  displeasure.  Added  to  this  was  another  ob- 
jection,  a  serious   one,   which    most  men   would   have 


WHAT    EOVEB   FOUND.  29 

weighed  carefully  before  deciding  to  burden  themselves 
with  two  additional  individuals.  Though  the  owner  of 
Spring  Bank,  Hugh  was  far  from  being  rich,  and  many 
were  the  shifts  and  self  denials  he  was  obliged  to  make 
o  meet  the  increased  expense  entailed  upon  him  by  his 
nother  and  sister.  John  Stanley  had  been  accounted 
wealthy,  but  at  his  death  there  was  nothing  left,  save  a 
few  acres  of  nearly  worn  out  land,  the  old  dilapidate! 
house,  and  a  dozen  or  more  negroes.  With  good  man- 
agement this  was  amply  sufficient  to  supply  Hugh's  limit- 
ed wants,  and  he  was  looking  forward  to  a  life  of  careless 
ease,  when  his  mother  from  New  England  wrote,  asking 
for  a  home.  Hugh  did  not  know  then  as  well  as  he  did 
now  what  it  would  cost  to  keep  a  young  lady  of  his  sis- 
ter's habits.  He  only  knew  that  his  home  was  far  differ- 
ent from  the  New  England  one  he  remembered  so  well, 
but  such  as  it  was  he  would  share  it  with  his  mother  and 
sister,  and  so  he  had  bidden  them  welcome,  concealing 
fi'om  them  as  far  as  possible  the  trouble  he  oftentimes  had 
to  meet  the  increased  demand  for  money  which  their  pres- 
ence brought.  This  to  a  certain  extent  was  the  secret  of  his 
patched  boots,  his  threadbare  coat  and  coarse  pants,  with 
which  'Lina  so  often  taunted  him,  saying  he  wore  them 
just  to  be  stingy  and  mortify  her,  when  in  fact  necessity 
rather  than  choice  was  the  cause  of  his  shabby  appear- 
ance. He  had  never  told  her  so,  however,  never  said  that 
the  unfashionable  coat  so  offensive  to  her  fastidious  vision 
was  worn  that  she  might  be  the  better  clothed  and  fed. 
Yet  such  was  the  case,  and  now  he  was  deliberately  ad- 
ding to  his  already  heavy  burden.  But  Hugh  was  capa- 
Dle  of  great  self  sacrifices.  He  could  manage  somehow, 
and  Adah  should  stay.  He  would  say  that  she  was  a 
friend  whom  he  had  known  in  New  York ;  that  her  hus- 
band had  deserted  her,  and  in  her  distress  she  had  come 
to  him  for  aid ;  for  the  rest  he  trusted  that  time  and  hei 


30  HUGH    WOETHINGTON. 

own  appearance  would  wear  away  any  unpleasant  impres 
Bions  which  her  presence  might  create. 

All  this  he  explained  to  Adah,  who  assented    tacitly 
thinking  within  herself  that  she  should  not  long  remain 
at  Spring  Bank,  a  dependant  upon  one  on  whom  she  had  no 
claim.     She  was  too  weak  now,  however,  to  oppose  him,* 
and  merely  nodding  to  his  suggestions  laid  her  head  upon 
tlie  arm  of  the  lounge  with  a  low  cry  that  she  was  sick 
and  warm.     Stepping  to  the  door  Hugh  turned  the  key 
and  summoning  the  group  waiting  anxiously  in  the  adjoin- 
ing room,  bade  them  come  at  once,  as  Mrs.  Hastings  ap- 
peared to  be  fainting.     Great  emphasis  he  laid  upon  the 
3Irs.  and  catching   it  up  at  once  'Lina  repeated,  "  Mrs, 
lEastings  !     So  am  I  just  as  much." 

"  Ad,"  and  the  eyes  which  shone  so  softly  on  poor  Adah 
flashed  with  gleams  of  fire  as  Hugh  said  to  his  sister? 
"  not  another  word  against  that  girl  if  you  wish  to  remain 
here  longer.     She  has  been  unfortunate." 

"I  guessed  as  much,"  sneeringly- interrupted  'Lina. 

"  Silence  ! "  and  Hugh's  foot  came  down  as  it  sometimes 
did  when  chiding  a  refractory  negro.  "  She  is  as  true,  yes 
truer  than  you.  He  who  should  have  protected  her  has 
basely  deserted  her.  And  I  shall  care  for  her.  See  that 
a  fire  is  kindled  in  the  west  chamber,  and  go  up  yourself 
when  it  is  made  and  see  that  all  is  comfortable.  Do  you 
understand  ?  "  and  he  gazed  sterniy  at  'Lina,  who  was  too 
much  astonished  to  answer,  even  if  she  had  been  so  dis- 
posed. 

That  Hugh  should  take  in  a  beggar  from  the  streets  was 
bad  enough,  but  to  keep  her,  and  worse  yet  to  put  her  in 
^he  best  chamber,  where  ex-Governor  Russhad  slept;  and 
where  was  nailed  down  the  carpet,  brought  from  New 
England  —  was  preposterous,  and  Hugh  was  certainly 
crazy.  But  never  was  man  more  sane  than  Hugh ;  and 
seeing  her  apparently  incapable  of  carrying  out  his  orders 
he  himself  sent  Hannah  to  build  the  fire,  bidding  her,  with 


WHAT    ROVER   FOUND.  31 

all  a  woman  s  forethought,  be  careful  that  the  bed  was  aired, 
and  clothes  enough  put  on.  "  Take  a  blanket  fi-om  my 
Df.d,  if  necessary,"  he  added,  as  Hannah,  bewildered  with 
tlie  "carryin's  on,"  disappeared  up  the  staircase,  a  long  line 
of  smoke  streaming  behind  her. 

When  all  was  ready,  Hugh  went  for  Adah,  and  taking 
her  in  his  arms  carried  her  to  the  upper  chamber,  where 
the  fire  was  burning  brightly,  casting  cheerful  shadows 
upon  the  wall,  and  making  Adah  smile  gi*atefully,  as  she 
looked  up  in  his  face,  and  murmured, 

"  God  bless  you,  Mr.  Worthington !  Adah  will  pray  for 
you  to-night,  when  she  is  alone.     It's  all  that  she  can  do." 

They  laid  her  upon  the  bed.  Hugh  himself  arranging 
her  pillows,  which  no  one  else  appeared  inclined  to  touch. 

Family  opinion  was  against  her,  innocent  and  beautiful 
as  she  looked  Ijing  there  —  so  helpless,  so  still,  with  her 
long-fringed  lashes  shading  her  colorless  cheek,  and  her 
little  hands  folded  upon  her  bosom,  as  if  already  she  were 
breathing  the  promised  prayer  for  Hugh.  Only  in  Mrs. 
Worthington's  heart  was  there  a  chord  of  sympathy.  She 
couldn't  help  feeling  for  the  desolate  stranger ;  and  when, 
at  her  own  request,  Hannah  placed  Willie  in  her  lap,  ere 
laying  him  by  his  mother,  she  gave  him  an  involuntary  hug, 
and  touched  her  lips  to  his  fat,  round  cheek.  It  was  the 
first  kiss  given  him  at  Spring  Bank,  and  it  was  meet  that 
it  should  come  from  her. 

"  He  looks  as  you  did,  Hugh,  when  you  were  a  baby," 
she  said,  w^hile  Chloe  rejoined, 

"  De  very  spawn  of  Mar's  Hugh,  now.  I  'tected  it  de 
fust  minit.  Can't  cheat  dis  chile,"  and,  with  a  chuckle 
which  she  meant  to  be  very  expressive,  the  fat  old  wo- 
man w^addled  fiom  the  room,  followed  by  Hannah,  who 
was  to  sleep  there  that  night,  and  who  must  first  return 
to  her  cabin  to  make  the  necessary  preparations  for  her 
vigils. 


32  HUGH   WOETHINGTON, 

Hugh  and  his  mother  were  alone,  and  turning  to  her 
BOD,  Mrs.  Worthington  said,  gently, 

"  This  is  sad  business,  Hugh  ;  worse  than  you  imagine. 
Do  you  know  how  folks  will  talk  ?  " 

"  Let  them  talk,"  Hugh  growled.  "  It  cannot  be  much 
worse  than  it  is  now.  Nobody  cares  for  Hugh  Worthing- 
ton ;  and  why  should  they,  when  his  own  motlier  and  sis- 
ter are  against  him,  in  actions  if  not  in  words? — one 
sighing  when  his  name  is  mentioned,  as  if  he  really  were 
the  most  provoking  son  that  ever  was  born,  and  the  other 
openly  berating  him  as  a  monster,  a  clown,  a  savage,  a 
scarecrow,  and  all  that.  I  tell  you,  mother,  there  is  but 
little  to  encourage  me  in  the  kind  of  life  I'm  leading 
Neither  you  nor  Ad  have  tried  to  make  anything  of  me 
or  have  done  me  any  good ;  but  somehow,  I  feel  as  if  she 
would,"  and  he  pointed  to  tlie  now  sleeping  Adah.  "  At 
all  events,  I  know  it's  light  to  keep  her,  and  I  want  you 
to  help  me,  will  you?  That  is,  will  you  be  kind  to  her; 
and  when  folks  speak  against  her,  as  they  may,  will  you 
stand  for  her  as  for  your  own  daughter?  She's  more  like 
you  than  Ad,"  and  Hugh  gazed  wonderingly  from  one  to 
the  other,  struck,  for  the  first  time,  with  a  resemblance, 
fancied  or  real,  between  the  two. 

Mrs.  Worthington  did  not  heed  this  last,  so  intent  was 
she  on  the  first  of  Hugh's  remarks.  Choking  with  tears 
she  said, 

"  You  wrong  me,  Hugh ;  I  do  try  to  make  something 
of  you.  You  are  a  dear  child  to  me,  dearer  than  the  oth 
er ;  but  I'm  a  weak  woman,  and  'Lina  sways  me  at  will." 
■  A  kind  word  unmanned  Hugh  at  once,  and  kneeling  bj 
'lis  mother,  he  put  his  arms  around  her,  and  beggmg  for. 
givcness  for  his  harsh  words,  asked  again  a  mother's  care 
for  Adah. 

"  H  igh,"  and  Mrs.  Worthington  looked  him  steadily  ic 
the  fa  je,  "  is  Adah  your  wife,  or  Willie  your  child  ?" 

*iCrreat  guns,  mother ! "  and  Hugh  started  to  his  feet  af 


WHAT    KOVER   FOUND.  33 

i|uick  as  if  a  bomb  shell  had  exploded  at  his  side.     "  No 
by  all  that's  sacred,  no  !     Upon  my  word,  you  look  sorry 
instead  of  glad  !     Are  you   sorry,  motlier,  to  find  me  bet- 
ter than  you  imagined  it  possible   for  a  bad  boy  like  me 
to  be  ? " 

"No,  Hugh,  not  sorry.  I  was  only  thinking  that  I've 
sometimes  fancied  that,  as  a  married  man,  you  might  be 
happier ;  and  when  this  woman  came  so  strangelyi 
and  you  seemed  so  interested,  I  did'nt  know,  I  rathe? 
thought " 

"  I  know,"  and  Hugh  interrupted  her.  "  You  thought 
maybe,  I  raised  Ned  when  I  was  in  New  York ;  and,  as  a  ■ 
proof  of  said  resurrection,  Mrs.  Ned  and  Ned  junior,  had 
come  with  their  baggage.  But  it  is  not  so,  she  does  not 
belong  to  rae,"  and  going  up  to  his  mother  he  told  her  all 
he  knew  of  Adah,  adding,  "  Now  will  you  be  kind  to  her 
for  my  sake  ?  and  when  Ad  rides  her  highest  horse,  as 
she  is  sure  to  do,  will  you  smooth  her  down  ?  Tell  her 
Adah  has  as  good  right  here  as  she,  if  I  choose  to  keep 
her." 

There  was  a  faint  remonstrance  on  Mrs.  "Worthington's 
part,  her  argument  being  based  upon  what  folks  would 
say,  and  Hugh's  inability  to  take  care  of  many  more. 

Hugh  did  not  care  a  picayune  for  folks,  and  as  for 
Adah,  if  his  mother  did  not  wish  her  there,  and  he  pre- 
sumed she  did  not,  he'd  get  her  boarded  for  the  present 
with  Aunt  Eunice,  w^ho,  like  himself,  was  invincible  to 
public  opinion  she  needed  just  such  a  companion.  She'd 
be  a  mother  to  Adah,  and  Adah  a  daughter  to  her,  so 
they  needn't  spend  further  time  in  talking,  for  he  was 
getting  tired." 

Mrs.  Worthington  was  much  more  easily  won  ovei  co 
Hugh's  opinion  than  'Lina,  who,  when  told  of  the  arrange- 
ment, raised  a  perfect  hurricane  of  expostulations  and 
tears.  They'd  be  a  county  talk,  she  said  ;  nobody  would 
come  near  them,  and  she  might  as  well  enter  a  nunnery 
2* 


84  HUGH    WORTHIXGTON. 

at  once ;  besides,  hadn't  Ilugli   enough  on  his  hands  al 
ready  without  taking  more  ? 

"  II  my  considerate  sister  really  thinks  so,  hadn't  she 
better  try  and  help  herself  a  little?"  retorted  Hugh  in  a 
blaze  of  anger.  "I've  only  paid  two  hundred  and  lift} 
dollars  for  her  since  she  came  here,  to  say  nothing  of 
tl  at  bill  at  Harney's  due  in  January." 

'Lina  began  to  cry,  and  Hugh,  repenting  of  his  harsh 
speech  as  soon  as  it  was  uttered,  but  far  too  proud  to  take 
it  back,  strode  up  and  down  the  room,  chafing  like  a 
young  lion 

"  Come,  children,  it's  after  midnight,  let  us  adjourn 
until  to-morrow,"  Mrs.  AVorthington  said,  by  way  of  end- 
ing the  painful  interview,  at  the  same  time  handing  a  can- 
dle to  Hugh,  who  took  it  silently  and  withdrew,  banging 
the  door  behind  him  with  a  force  which  made  'Lina  start 
and  burst  into  a  fresh  flood  of  tears. 

"I'm  a  brute,  a  savage,  was  Hugh's  not  very  self  com- 
plimentary soliloquy,  as  he  went  up  the  stairs.  "  What 
did  I  want  to  twit  Ad  for?  What  good  did  it  do,  only 
to  make  her  mad  and  bother  mother  ?  I  wish  I  could  do 
belter,  but  I  can't.  Confound  my  badness  !  "  and  having 
by  this  time  reached  his  own  door,  Hugh  entered  his  room, 
and  drawing  a  chair  to  the  fire  always  kindled  for  him 
at  night,  sat  down  to  think. 


CHAPTER  III. 

Hugh's  soliloquy. 


"One,  I  wo,  three,  yes,  as  good  as  four  women  and  a 
child,"  he  began, "  to  say  nothing  of  the  negroes,  who  all 
nnist  eat  and  drink.  A  goodly  number  for  one  whose 
income  is  hardly  as   much  as  some  young  men  spend 


Hugh's  soliloquy.  35 

every  year  upon  themselves ;  and  the  hardest  of  all  ia 
the  having  people  call  me  stingy  and  mean,  the  seeing 
youftg  girls  lift  their  eyebrows  and  wink  when  young 
Hunks,  as  Ad  says  they  call  me,  appears,  and  the  know- 
ing that  this  opinion  of  me  is  encouraged  and  kept  alive 
by  the  remarks  and  insinuations  of  my  own  sister,  for 
whom  I've  denied  myself  more  than  one  new  coat  that 
she  might  have  the  dress  slie  coveted,"  and  in  the  red 
gleam  of  the  fire-light  the  bearded  chin  quivered  for  a 
moment  as  Hugh  thought  how  unjust  'Lina  was  to  him, 
and  how  hard  was  the  lot  imposed  upon  him. 

Soon  recovering  his  composui-e  he  continued,  "  There's 
that  bill  at  Harney's,  how  in  the  world  I'm  to  pay  it  when 
it  comes  due  is  more  than  I  know.  These  duds,"  and  he 
glanced  ruefully  at  his  coarse  clotlies,  "  will  look  a  heap 
worse  than  they  do  now,  and  shifting  the  position  of  his 
feet,  which  had  hitherto  rested  upon  the  hearth,  to  a  more 
comfortable  and  suggestive  one  upon  the  mantel,  Hugh 
tried  to  find  a  spot  in  which  he  could  economize. 

"I  needn't  have  a  fire  in  my  room  nights,"  he  said,  as  a 
coal  fell  into  the  pan  and  thus  reminded  him  of  its  exis- 
tence, "  and  I  won't,  either.  It's  nonsense  for  a  great  hot- 
blooded  clown  like  me  to  be  babied  with  a  fire.  I've  no 
tags  to  braid,  no  talse  switches  to  comb  out  and  hide,  only 
a  few  buttons  to  undo,  a  shake  or  so,  and  I'm  all  right. 
So  there's  one  thing,  the  fire  —  quite  an  item,  too,  at  the 
rate  coal  is  selling.  Then  there's  coffee.  I  can  do  without 
that,  I  suppose,  thougli  it  will  be  perfect  torment  to  smell 
it,  and  Hannah  makes  such  splendid  coffee,  too ;  but  will 
is  everything.  Fire,  coflee — I'm  getting  on  famously 
What  else?" 

"  Tobacco,''''  something  whispered,  but  Hugh  answered 
promptly,  "  No,  sir,  I  shan't !  I'll  sell  my  shirts,  before 
I'll  give  up  my  best  friend.  It's  all  the  comfort  I  have 
when  I  get  a  fit  of  the  blues.  Oh,  you  needn't  try  to  come 
it  I "  and  Hugh  shook  his  head  defiantly  at  his  unseen  inter- 


36  HUGD    WORTIIIXGTON^ 

locator,  urging  that  'twas  a  filthy  ]>ractice  at  best,  and 
productive  of  no  good.  "You  needn't  try  fori  won't," 
and  Hugh  deliberately  liglited  a  cigar  and  resumed  his 
soliloquy,  while  he  complacently  watched  the  little  blue 
rings  curling  so  gracefully  above  his  head.  "  Blamed  if 
lean  think  of  any  thing  else,  but  maybe  I  shall.  I  might 
Bell  sometiiing,  I  suppose.  There's  Harney  wuits  to  buy 
Bot,  but  Ad  never  rides  any  other  hoi*se,  and  si  t  does  ride 
uncommonly  well,  if  she  is  Ad.  There's  the  negroes,  moie 
than  I  need,"  but  from  this  suggestion  Hugh  turned  away 
quite  as  decidedly  as  from  the  one  touching  his  tobacco* 
•'  He  didn't  believe  much  in  negroes  any  way,  surely  not 
in  selling  them ;  besides  that,  nobody'd  want  them  after 
they'd  been  spoiled  as  he  had  spoiled  them,"  and  he  Inughed 
aloud  as  he  fancied  a  new  master  trying  to  break  in  old 
Chloe,  who  had  ruled  at  Spring  Bank  so  long  that  she  al- 
most fancied  she  owned  it.  No,  Hugh  wouldn't  sell  his 
servants,  and  the  negroes  sleeping  so  soundly  in  their  cab- 
ins had  nothing  to  fear  from  him. 

Morses  v.'ere  suggested  again.  "  You  have  other  horses 
than  Bet,"  and  Hugh  was  conscious  of  a  pang  which  wrung 
fi'om  him  a  groan,  for  his  horses  were  his  idols,  and  parting 
with  them  would  be  like  severing  a  right  hand.  It  was  too 
terrible  to  think  about,  and  Hugh  dismissed  it  as  an  Alter- 
native which  might  have  to  be  considered  another  time. 
Then  hope  made  her  voice  heard  above  the  little  blue  imps 
tormenting  him  so  sadly. 

"  He  should  get  along  somehow.  Something  would  turn 
up.  Ad  might  marry  and  go  away.  He  knew  it  was 
WT^ng,  and  yet  he  could  not  help  thinking  it  would  be 
nice  to  come  home  some  day  and  not  find  her  there,  wiih 
her  fault-finding,  and  her  sarcastic  remarks.  What  made 
her  so  diflferent  from  his  mother  —  so  diJfferent  from  the 
little  sister  he  always  remembered  with  a  throb  of  delight? 
He  had  loved  her,  and  he  thought  of  her  now  as  she  use(3 


HUGHES    SOLILOQUY.  37 

to  look  in  her  dainty  white  frocks,  with  the  strings  of  coraj 
he  had  bought  with  nuts  picked  on  the  New  England  hills 

He  used  to  kiss  her  chubby  arms  —  kiss  the  rosy  cheeks, 
and  the  soft  brown  hair.  But  that  hair  had  changed  sad- 
ly since  the  days  when  its  owner  had  first  lisped  his  name, 
and  called  him  "Ugh,"  for  the  bands  and  braids  coiled 
around  'Lina's  head  were  black  as  midnight.  Not  less 
changed  than  Lina's  tresses  was  'Lina  herself,  and  Hugh 
had  often  felt  like  crying  for  the  little  baby  sister,  so  lost 
and  dead  to  him  in  her  young  womanhood.  What  had 
changed  Ad  so  ?  To  be  sure  he  did  not  care  much  for 
females  any  way,  but  if  Ad  were  half  way  decent,  and 
would  let  him,  he  should  love  her,  he  presumed.  Other 
young  men  loved  their  sisters.  There  was  Bob  Reynolds 
seemed  to  idolize  his,  crippled  though  she  was,  and  he  had 
mourned  so  bitterly,  when  she  died,  bending  over  her  cof- 
fin, and  kissing  her  white  face.  Would  Hugh  do  so  to 
Ad  ?  He  thought  it  very  doubtful !  though,  he  supposed, 
he  should  feel  sorry  and  mourn  some,  but  he'd  bet  he 
wouldn't  wear  a  very  wide  band  of  crape  around  his  hat ; 
he  couldn't  afford  it !  Still  he  should  remember  all  the 
harsh  things  he  had  said  to  her,  and  be  so  sorry. 

There  was  many  a  tender  spot  in  Hugh  Worthington's 
heart,  and  shadow  after  shadow  flitted  across  his  face  as 
he  thought  how  cheerless  was  his  life,  and  how  little 
there  was  in  his  surroundings  to  make  him  happy  Poor 
Hugh  !  It  was  a  dreary  picture  he  drew  as  he  sat  alone 
that  night,  brooding  orer  his  troubles,  and  listening  to  the 
moan  of  the  wintry  wind  —  the  only  sound  he  heu'd,  ex- 
'cept  ^.he  rattling  of  tlie  shutters  and  the  creaking  of  the 
timbers,  as  the  old  house  rocked  in  the  December  gale. 

Suddenly  there  crept  into  his  mind  Adah's  words,  "1 
thall  pray  for  you  to-night."  Would  she  ?  Had  she 
prayed  for  him,  and  did  prayers  do  any  good  ?  Was  any 
one  bettered  by  them  ?  Golden  Hair  had  thought  so,  and 
he  was  sure  she  had  talked  with  God  of  him,  but  sinca 


38  HUGH   WOETHIXGTON. 

the  waters  closed  over  her  dear  head,  no  one  had  remem- 
bered Hugh  Worthington  in  that  way,  he  was  sure.  But 
Adah  would,  and  Hugh's  heart  grew  stronger  aa  he 
thought  of  Adah  praying  for  him.  What  would  she  say  ? 
How  would  she  word  it  ?  He  wished  he  knew,  but  pray 
er  was  strange  to  Hugh.  He  never  prayed,  and  the  Biblo 
given  by*Golden  Hair  had  not  been  opened  this  many  a 
day,  but  he  would  do  so  now,  and  unlocking  the  trunk 
where  it  was  hidden,  he  took  it  from  its  concealment  and 
opened  it  reverently,  half  wondering  what  he  should  read 
first  and  if  it  would  have  any  reference  to  his  present 
position. 

"  Inasmuch  as  ye  did  it  to  the  least  of  these  ye  did  it 
unto  me." 

That  was  what  Hugh  read  in  the  dim  twilight,  that,  the 
passage  on  which  the  lock  of  hair  lay,  and  the  Bible 
dropped  from  his  hands  as  he  whispered, 

"  Golden  Hair,  are  you  here  ?  Did  you  point  that  out 
to  me  ?  Does  it  mean  Adah  ?  Is  the  God  you  loved  on 
earth  pleased  that  I  should  care  for  her?" 

To  these  queries,  tliere  came  no  answer,  save  the  mourn- 
ful wailing  of  the  night  wind  roaring  down  the  chimney 
and  past  the  sleet-covered  window,  but  Hugh  was  a  hap- 
pier man  foi"*  reading  that,  and  had  there  before  existed  a 
doubt  as  to  his  duty  toward  Adah,  this  would  have  swept 
it  away.  Bending  closer  to  the  fire,  Hugh  read  the  chap- 
ter through,  wondering  why  he  should  feel  so  much  better, 
and  why  the  world  looked  brighter  than  it  had  an  hour 
before.  If  it  made  folks  feel  so  nice  to  read  a  little  bit  in 
tie  Bible,  how  would  they  feel  to  read  it  through?  Ho 
ir.eant  to  try  and  see,  beginning  at  Genesis  the  very  next 
night,  and  hiding  his  treasure  away,  Hugh  sought  his  pil 
low  just  as  the  first  greyish  streak  of  daylight  was  begin 
ninsr  to  show  in  the  east. 


TERRACE    HILL. 


CHAPTER  IV 


TERRACE    HILL. 


The  storm  which  visited  Kentucky  so  wrathfully  waa 
far  milder  among  the  New  England  hills,  and  in  the  vicin- 
ity of  Snowdon,  whither  our  story  now  tends,  was  scarcely 
noticed,  save  as  an  ordinary  winter's  storm.  There  were 
no  drifts  against  the  fences,  no  driving  sleet,  no  sheets  of 
ice  covering  the  valleys,  nothing  save  a  dark,  sour,  dreary 
day,  when  the  grey  December  clouds  seemed  wading  in 
the  piles  of  snow,  which,  as  the  sun  went  down,  began  to 
fall  in  those  small  misty  flakes,  which  betoken  a  storm  of 
some  duration.  As  yet  it  had  been  comparatively  warmer 
in  New  England  than  in  Kentucky;  and  Miss  Anna  Rich- 
ards, confirmed  invalid  though  she  was,  had  decided  not 
to  take  her  usual  trip  to  the  South,  so  comfortable  was  she 
at  home,  in  her  accustomed  chair,  with  her  pretty  crimson 
shawl  wrapped  around  her.  Besides  that,  they  were  ex- 
pecting her  brother  John  from  Paris,  M'here  he  had  been 
for  the  last  eighteen  months,  pursuing  his  medical  profes- 
sion, and  she  must  be  there  to  welcome  him. 

Anna  was  proud  of  her  young,  handsome  brother,  for 
on  him  and  his  success  in  life,  all  their  future  hopes  were 
pending. 

All  were  proud  of  John,  and  all  had  petted  and  spoiled 
him,  from  his  precise  lady  mother,  down  to  invalid  Anna, 
who,  more  than  any  one  else,  was  anxious  for  his  return, 
and  who  had  entered,  with  a  good  deal  of  interest  into 
the  preparations  which,  for  a  week  or  more,  had  kept 
Terrace  Hill  Mansion  in  a  state  of  bustle  and  excitement, 
for  John  was  so  refined  and  fastidious  in  his  tastes,  that 
he  was  sure  to  notice  if  aught  were  amiss  or  out  of  place. 


40  HUGH   WORTHINGTON. 

Consequently  great  pains  was  taken  with  his  room,  while 
Anna,  who  liad  a  private  purse  of  her  own,  went  into  tlie 
extravagance  of  furnishing  a  new  carpet  of  more  modern 
style  than  the  heavy,  old-fashioned  Brussels,  which  for 
years,  had  covered  the  floor. 

John  had  never  been  very  happy  at  home  —  and  honoe 
the  efforts  they  were  putting  forth  to  make  it  attractive  to 
him  after  his  long  absence.  He  could  not  help  liking  it 
now,  the  ladies  said  to  each  other,  as,  a  few  days  before 
his  arrival,  they  rode  from  the  village,  up  the  winding 
terraced  hill,  admiring  the  huge  stone  building  embosom- 
ed in  evergreens,  and  standing  out  so  distinctly  against 
the  wintry  sky.  And  Terrace  Hill  Mansion  Avas  a  very 
handsome  place,  exciting  the  envy  and  admiration  of  the 
villagers,  who  could  remember  a  time  when  it  had  looked 
better  even  than  it  did  now  —  when  the  house  was  often- 
er  full  of  city  company,  wlien  high-born  ladies  rode  up  and 
down  in  carriages,  or  dashed  on  horseback  through  the 
park  and  off  into  leafy  woods  —  when  sounds  of  festivity 
w^ere  heard  in  the  halls  from  year's  end  to  year's  end,  and 
the  lights  in  the  parlors  were  rarely  extinguislied,  or  the 
fires  on  the  hearth  put  out.  This  was  during  the  lifetime 
of  its  former  owner,  whose  covering  had  been  the  tall  green 
grass  of  Snowdon  cemetery  for  several  years.  With  his 
death  there  had  come  a  change  to  the  inhabitants  of  Ter- 
race Plill,  a  curtailing  of  expenses,  a  gradual  dropping  of 
the  swarms  of  friends  who  had  literally  ft»d  upon  them  dur- 
ing the  summer  and  autumn  months.  In  short  it  was 
whispered  now  that  the  ladies  of  Terrace  Hill  were  restrict- 
ed in  their  means,  that  there  was  less  display  of  dress  and 
tyle,  fewer  fires,  and  lights,  and  servants,  and  an  apparent 
lesire  to  be  left  to  themselves. 

This  was  what  the  village  people  whispered,  and  none 
knew  the  truth  of  the  whisperings  better  than  the  ladiea 
in  question,  or  shrank  more  from  having  their  affaii*a 
canvassed  by  those  whom  they  looked  down  upon,  even  if 


TERRACE    BILL.  41 


the  glory  of  their  bouse  was  departed.     Mrs.  Richards 
and  her  elder  daughters,  Miss  Asenath  and  Eudora,  were 
very  proud,  very  exclusive,  and  but  for  the  existence  of 
Anna,  few  of  the  villagers  would  ever  have  crossed  their 
threshold.     Anna  was  a  favorite  in  the  village,  and  when 
confined  to  her  room  for  weeks,  as  she  sometimes  was, 
tliere  were  more  anxious  enquiries  concerning  her  than 
«vould  have  been  bestowed  on  Asenath  and  Eudora  Iiad 
they  both  been  dying.     And  yet  in  her  early  girlhood 
she  too  had  been  cold  and  haughty,  but  since  the  morning 
when  she  had  knelt  at  her  father's  feet,  and  begged  him 
to  revoke  his  cruel  decision,  and  say  she  might  be  the 
bride  of  a  poor  missionary,  Anna  had  greatly  changed, 
and  the  father,  had  sometimes  questioned  the  propriety 
of  separating  the  hearts  which  clung  so  tenaciously  to- 
gether.    But  it  was  then  too  late  to  remedy  the  mistake. 
The  young  missionary  had  married  another,  and  neither 
the  parents  nor  the  sisters  ever  forgot  the  look  of  anguish 
which  stole  into  Anna's  face,  when  she  heard  the   news. 
She  had  told  him  to  do  so,  it  is  true,  for  she  knew  a  mis- 
sionary to  be  strictly  useful  must  have  a  wife.     She  had 
thought  herself  prepared,  but  the  news  was  just  as  crush- 
ing when  it  came,  accompanied  though  it  was  with  a  few 
last  lines  from  him^  such  as  a  husband  might  write  to  the 
woman  he  had  loved  so  much,  and  only  given  up  because 
he  must.    Anna  kept  this  letter  yet,  reading  it  often  to 
herself  and  wondering,  if  through  all  the  changes  which 
fourteen  years  had   wrought,  the  missionary  remembered 
her  yet,  and  if  they  would  ever  meet  again.     This  was 
"the  secret  of  the  numerous  missionary  papers  and  maga- 
zines scattered  so  profusely  through  the  rooms  at  Terrace 
Hill.     Anna  was  interested  in   everything  pertaining  to 
the  work,  though,  it  must  be  confessed,  that  her  mind 
wandered  oftenest  to  the  city  of  mosques  and  minarets, 
where  he  was  laboring ;  and  once,  when  she  heard  of  a 
little  grave  made  with  the  Moslem  dead,  the  grave  of 


42  HFGH   WORTHINGTON. 

darling  Anna,  named  for  her,  she  wept  bitterly,  feeling  aa 
if  she,  too,  had  been  bereaved  as  well  as  the  parents, 
across  the  Eastern  waters.  This  was  sweet  Anna  Rich 
ards,  who,  on  the  day  of  her  brother's  expected  arrival 
from  Paris,  dressed  herself  with  unusual  care  and  joined 
lier  mother  and  elder  sisters  in  the  parlor  below.  It  was 
a  raw,  chilly  evening,  and  a  coal  fire  had  been  kindled  in  the 
gi-ate,  the  bright  blaze  falling  on  Anna's  cheek,  and  light- 
ing it  up  with  something  like  the  youthful  bloom  for 
which  she  had  once  been  celebrated.  The  harsh  exprea 
Bion  of  Miss  Asenath's  face  was  softened  down,  while  the 
mother  and  Eudora  looked  anxiously  expectant,  and 
Anna  was  the  happiest  of  them  all.  Taken  as  a  whole 
it  was  a  very  j^leasant  family  group,  which  sat  there  wait- 
ing for  the  foreign  lion,  and  for  the  whistle  of  the  engine 
which  was  to  herald  his  approach. 

*'  I  wonder  if  he  has  changed,"  said  the  mother,  glanc- 
ing at  the  opposite  mirror  and  arranging  the  puffs  of 
glossy  false  hair  which  shaded  her  aristocratic  forehead. 

"  Of  course  he  has,"  returned  Miss  Asenath.  Nearly 
two  years  of  Paris  society  must  have  imparted  to  him  that 
air  dUtiyigue  so  desirable  in  a  young  man  who  has  travel- 
led." 

"  He'll  hardly  fail  of  making  a  good  match  now,"  Miss 
Eudora  remarked.  "  I  think  we  must  manage  to  visit 
Saratoga  or  some  of  those  places  next  summer.  Mr. 
Gardner  found  his  wife  at  Newport,  and  they  say  she's 
worth  half  a  million." 

"But  horridly  ugly,"  and  Anna  looked  up  from  the 
reverie  in  which  she  had  been  indulging.  "  Lottie  says  she 
has  tow  hair  and  a  face  like  a  fish.  John  would  never  be 
happy  with  such  a  wife." 

"  Possibly  you  think  he  had  better  have  married  that 
sewing  girl  about  whom  he  wrote  us  just  before  going  to 
Europe,"  Miss  Eudora  suggested. 

"  No,  I  don't,"  Anna  answered,  mildly.     "  I  am  almost 


TERRACE    HILL.  4S 

as  anxious  as  yourselves  for  him  to  marry  rich,  for  I  know 
you  need  money  sadly,  and  my  income  is  not  so  large  as 
for  your  sakes  I  wish  it  was,  but  poverty  and  love  are 
better  than  riches  and  hatred,  and  I  have  always  felt  a 
strange  interest  in  that  young  girl,  whom  I  know  John 
loved,  or  he  would  never  have  written  to  see  how  we 
would  bear  his  taking  a  portionless  bride." 

"I  told  him  plainly  how  J  would  bear  it.  She  shouid 
never  cross  my  threshold,"  and  the  face  of  Mrs.  Richards, 
the  mother,  was  highly  indicative  of  the  feeling  she  en- 
tertained for  the  young,  penniless  girl,  whom  it  would 
seem  John  Richards  M.  D.,  had  thought  to  marry. 

«I  trust  he  is  over  that  fancy,"  she  continued,  «  and 
ready  to  thank  me  for  the  strong  letter  I  wrote  him." 

"Yes,  but  the  girl,"  and  Anna  leaned  her'  white  cheek 
in  her  whiter  hand.  "  None  of  us  know  the  harm  his 
leaving  her  may  have  done.  Don't  you  remember  he 
wrote  how  much  she  loved  him  —  how  gentle  and  confid- 
ing her  nature  was,  how  to  leave  her  then  might  prove 
her  ruin  ?  " 

«  Our  little  Anna  is  growing  very  eloquent  upon  the 
subject  of  sewing  giris,"  Miss  Asenath  said,  rather  scorn- 
fully, and  Anna  rejoined, 

"  I  am  not  sure  she  was  a  sew^ing  giri.  He  spoke  of 
her  as  a  school  girl." 

«  But  it  is  most  likely  he  did  that  to  mislead  us,"  said 
the  mother.  "  The  only  boarding  school  he  knows  any- 
thing about  is  the  one  where  Lottie  was.  He  often  visit- 
ed her,  but  I've  questioned  her  closely,  and  she  cannot 
think  of  a  single  young  lady  whom  he  fancied  more  thani 
another.  All  w^ere  in  love  with  him,  she  said,  herself  in- 
cluded. If  he  were  not  her  uncle  by  marriage  I  should 
not  object  to  Lottie  as  a  daughter,"  w^as  the  next  remark, 
whereupon  there  ensued  a  conversation  touching  the  mer- 
its and  demerits  of  a  certain  Lottie  Gardner,  whose  father 
had  taken  for  a  second  wife  Miss  Laura  Richards. 


44  HUGH   WOETHIXCTON. 

Diinng  this  discussion  of  Lottie,  Anna  had  sat  listless- 
ly looking  up  and  down  the  columns  of  an  old  Herald 
which  Diok,  Eudora's  pet  dog,  had  ferreted  out  from  the 
table  and  deposited  at  her  feet.  She  evidently  was  not 
thinking  of  Lottie,  nor  yet  of  the  advertisements,  until 
one  struck  her  notice  as  being  very  singular  from  tlie  fact 
that  a  name  was  appended  to  it,  a  thing  she  had  never 
seen  before.  Holding  it  a  little  more  to  the  light  and 
bending  forward  she  said,  "  Possibly  this  is  the  very  per- 
son I  w^ant  —  one  who  will  be  either  a  companion  or  a 
waiting-maid,  only  the  child  might  be  an  objection,  though 
I  do  love  the  little  things.  Just  listen,"  and  Anna  read 
as  follows : 

"TVaxted  —  by  an  unfortunate  young  married  woman, 
with  a  child  a  few  months  old,  a  situation  in  a  private  family 
6ither  as  governess,  seamstress,  or  lady's  maid.  Country 
ppreferred.     Address " 

Anna  was  about  to  say  whom,  when  a  -violent  ringing 
of  the  bell  and  a  heavy  stamping  of  feet  on  the  steps  with 
out  announced  an  arrival,  and  the  next  moment  a  tall, 
handsome  young  man,  exceedingly  Frenchified  in  his  ap- 
pearance, entered  the  room,  and  was  soon  in  the  arms  of  his 
mother,  who,  kissing  his  bearded  cheek,  welcomed  him  as 
her  son. 

John,  or  Dr.  Richards,  did  not  care  particularly  to  be 
caressed  by  ladies  unless  he  could  choose  them,  and  re- 
leasing himself  as  soon  as  practicable  from  his  lady  moth- 
ers embrace,  he  submitted  himself  a  moment  to  his  two  el- 
der sisters,  and  tlien,  hastening  to  where  Anna  sat,  wound 
his  arms  around  her  light  figure,  and  lifting  her  as  he  would 
have  lifted  a  little  child,  kissed  her  white  lips  and  looked 
into  her  face  witli  an  expression  which  told  that,  however 
indifferent  he  might  be  to  others,  he  was  not  so  to  Anna. 

"  You  have  not  changed  for  the  worse,"  he  said,  replac- 
ing her  in  her  chair  and  sitting  down  beside  her. 


TERRACE    HILL.  45 

"  And  you  are  vastly  improved,"  was  Anna's  answer,  as 
she  smoothed  j^layfully  the  Parisian  mustache,  her  brother's 
special  pride. 

Then  commerced  from  mother  and  sisters  a  volley  of 
questions.     Had  he  been  well?     Did  he  like  Paris?     Waa 
Le  glad  to  be  home  again?    And  why  had  he  gone  off^ 
without  coming  out  to  say  good-bye? 

This  last  was  put  by  his  mother,  who  continued,  "  1 
thought,  perhaps,  you  were  offended  at  my  plain  letter 
concerning  that  girl,  and  resented  it  by  not  coming,  but  of 
course  you  are  glad  now,  and  see  that  mother  was  right. 
What  could  you  have  done  with  a  wife  in  Paris  ?  " 

"I  should  not  have  gone,"  John  answered,  moodily,  a 
shadow  stealing  over  his  face. 

It  was  not  good  taste  for  Mrs.  Richards  thus  early  to  in- 
troduce a  topic  on  which  John  was  really  so  sore,  and  for 
a  moment  an  awkward  silence  ensued,  broken  at  last  by 
the  mother  again,  who,  feeling  that  all  was  not  right,  and 
anxious  to  know  if  there  was  yet  aught  to  fear  from  a  poor, 
unknown  daughter-in-law,  asked,  hesitatingly, 

"  Have  you  seen  her  since  your  return  ?  " 

She  is  dead  was  the  reply,  and  then  anxious  to  change 
the  conversation,  the  Doctor  began  talking  to  Anna  until 
the  supper  bell  rang,  and  his  mother  led  the  way  to  the 
dining  room  where  a  most  inviting  supper  was  prepared 
in  honor  of  the  Doctor'' s  return.  How  handsome  he  look- 
ed in  his  father's  place  at  the  head  of  the  table.  How 
gracefully  he  did  the  honors,  and  how  proud  all  were  of 
him  as  he  repeated  little  incidents  of  Parisian  life,  speak- 
ing cf  the  Emperor  and  Eugenie  as  if  they  had  beenii 
every  day  sights  to  him.  In  figure  and  form  the  fair  Em 
press  reminded  him  of  Anna,  he  said,  except  that  Anna 
was  the  i)rettier  of  the  two  —  a  compliment  which  Anna 
acknowledGjcd  with  a  blush  and  a  trembliusr  of  her  long, 
eyelashes.  It  was  a  very  pleasant  f  imily  reunion,  for  John 
djd  his  best  to  be  agreeable,  and  by  the  time  they  returne(3 


46  HUGH   WORTHINGTOX. 

to  the  parlor  his  mother  had  quite   forgiven  him  the  fla 
grant  act  of  loving  an  unknown  girl. 

"  Oh,  John,  please  be  careful  where  you  tear  that  paper. 
There's  an  advertisement  I  want  to  save,"  Anna  exclaim- 
ed, as  she  saw  lier  brother  tearing  a  strip  from  the  Herald 
with  which  to  light  his  cigar,  but  as  she  spoke,  the  smoke 
and  flame  curled  around  the  narrow  strip,  and  Dr.  Rich- 
ards had  lighted  his  cigar  with  the  name  and  address  ap- 
pended to  the  advertisement  which  had  so  interested 
Anna. 

How  disturbed  she  was  when  she  found  that  nought 
was  left  save  the  simple  wants  of  the  young  girl  who, 
with  a  breaking  heart  had  penned  the  lines,  and  who  now 
lay  so  still  beneath  a  Kentucky  rift  of  snow ! 

"  Let's  see,"  and  taking  the  mutilated  sheet.  Dr.  Rich- 
ards read  the  "  Wanted,  by  a  young  unfortunate  marri- 
ed woman." 

"  That  unfortunate  may  mean  a  great  deal  more  than 
you  imagine,"  he  said,  in  order  to  quiet  his  sister,  wlw 
quickly  rejoined, 

"  Yes,  but  she  distinctly  says  married.  Don't  you  see, 
and  I  had  really  some  idea  of  writing  to  her,  or  at  least 
I  think  I  had,  now  that  'tis  too  late." 

"  I'm  sorry  I  was  so  careless,  but  there  are  a  thousand 
unfortunate  women  who  would  gladly  be  your  maid, 
little  sister.  I'll  send  you  out  a  score,  if  you  say  so, 
either  w^ith  or  without  babies,"  and  John  laughed,  as  with 
the  utmost  nonchalance  he  smoked  the  cigar  lighted  with 
the  name  of  Adah  Hastings  I 

"  Has  any  thing  of  importance  occurred  in  this  slow  old 
town?"  he  inquired,  after  Anna  had  become  reconciled  to 
her  loss.  Has  there  been  any  desirable  addition  to 
Snowdon  society?" 

"  Y^es,"  returned  Aima.  "A  Mrs.  Johnson,  who  is 
eveiy   way   cultivated  and   refined,  while   Alice  is   the 


TEREACE    HUX.  47 

sweetest  girl  .  ever  knew.    You  have  a  rare  pleasure  in 
store  in  forming  their  acquaintance. 

"  Whose,  the  old  or  the  young  lady's  ?  "  John  asked, 
carelessly  knocking  the  ashes  from  the  end  of  his  cigar. 

"Both,"  was  Anna's  reply.  "The  mother  is  verj 
youthful  in  her  appearance.  Why,  she  scarcely  'ookj 
older  than  I  do,  and  I,  you  know,  am  thirty-two." 

As  if  fearful  lest  her  own  age  should  come  next  under 
consideration.  Miss  Eudora  hastened  to  say, 

"  Yes,  Mrs.  Jphnson  does  look  very  young,  and  Alice 
seems  like  a  child,  though  I  heard  her  say  she  was  al- 
most twenty.  Such  beautiful  hair  as  she  has.  It  used  to 
be  a  bright  yellow,  or  golden,  so  the  old  nurse  says,  but 
now  it  has  a  darker,  richer  shade,  midway  between  golden 
and  chestnut,  while  her  eyes  are  the  softest,  handsomest 
blue." 

Alice  Johnson  was  evidently  a  favorite  at  Terrace  Hill, 
and  as  this  stamped  her  somebody  Jolm  began  to  ask  who 
the  Johnsons  were,  and  where  they  came  from. 

Mrs.  Richard  seemed  disposed  to  answer  these  ques- 
tions, which  she  did  as  follows  : 

"  Mrs.  Johnson  used  to  live  in  Boston,  and  her  husband 
was  grandson  of  old  Governor  Johnson,  one  of  the  best 
families  in  that  State." 

"Ah,  yes,"  and  John  began  to  laugh.  "  I  see  now  what 
gives  Miss  Alice's  hair  that  peculiar  shade,  and  her  eyes 
that  heavenly  blue,  over  which  my  staid  sister  Dora  waxed 
so  eloquent.  Miss  Alice  is  an  ex-Governor's  great  grand 
daughter  —  but  go  on,  mother,  only  come  to  Alice  herselfj 
XI id  give  \iQvfigicre  as  soon  as  may  be." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  Anna,  who  took  things 
terally.     "  I  should  suppose  you'd  care  more  for  her  face 
than  hei  form." 

John  smiled  mischievously,  while  his  mother  continued 

"  I  fancy  that  Mrs.  Johnson's  family  met  with  a  reverse 
of  fortune  before  her  marringe,  but  know  nothing  certain 


48  HUGH    WOKTUINGTON. 

ly  except  that  she  was  greatly  beloved  in  Boston.  Hei 
husband  has  been  dead  some  years,  and  recently  she  has 
bought  and  fitted  up  that  pretty  cottage  down  by  the  river 
I  do  not  see  her  as  often  as  I  would  like  to,  for  I  am  great* 
ly  })leased  with  her,  although  she  has  some  habits  of  which 
1  cannot  approve,  such  as  associating  with  the  poor  of  the 
t(»wn  to  the  extent  she  does.  Why,  I  hear  that  Alice  had 
a  party  the  other  day  consisting  whglly  of  ragged  ur 
chins." 

"  They  were  her  Sunday-school  scholars,"  interposed 
Anna.  Alice  has  picked  up  a  large  class  of  children,  who 
before  her  coming,  used  to  run  the  streets  on  Sundays 
breaking  up  birds'  nests  and  pilfering  gardens.  I  am  sure 
we  ought  to  be  much  obliged  to  her,  for  our  fruit  and 
flowers  are  now  comparatively  safe." 

"  I  vote  that  Anna  goes  on  with  Alice's  history.  She 
gives  it  best,"  said  John,  and  so  Anna  continued, 

"There  is  but  little  to  tell.  Mrs.  Johnson  and  her 
daughter  are  both  nice  ladies,  and  I  am  sure  you  will  like 
them — every  body  does;  and  rumor  has  already  given 
Alice  to  our  young  clergyman,  Mr.  Howard." 

"And  she  is  worth  fifty  thousand  dollars,  too,"  rejoined 
Asenath,  as  if  that  were  a  powerful  reason  why  a  poor 
clergyman  should  not  aspire  to  her  hand. 

"  I  have  her  figure  at  last,"  said  John,  winking  slily  at 
Anna,  who  only  looked  bewildered.  And,  the  $50,000 
did  seem  to  make  an  impression  on  the  young  man,  who 
made  numerous  inquiries  concerning  the  heiress,  asking 
how  often  she  came  to  Terrace  Hill,  and  where  he  would 
be  most  likely  to  see  her. 

"  At  church,"  was  Anna's  reply.  "  She  is  always  there 
»nd  tneir  pew  joins  ours." 

Dr.  Richards  did  not  much  like  going  to  church,  unless 
it  were  where  the  music  was  gi-and  and  operatic.  Still 
lie  had  intended  honoring  the  benighted  Snowdonites  with 
a  sight  of  himself  for  one  lialf  day,  though  he  knew  he 


TEEEACE   HILL.  49 

should  be  teiTibly  bored ;  but  now  the  case  was  different 
for  besides  being,  to  a  certain  extent,  a  kind  of  lio7i,  he 
should  see  Miss  Alice,  and  he  reflected  with  considerable 
satisfaction  that  as  this  was  Friday  night,  only  one  day 
intervened  ere  his  curiosity  and  that  of  the  villagers  would 
be  gratified.  He  was  glad  there  was  something  new  and^ 
interesting  in  Snowdon  in  the  shape  of  a  pretty  girl,  for  he*' 
did  not  care  to  return  at  once  to  New  York,  where  he  had 
intended  practising  his  profession.  There  were  too  many 
sad  memories  clustering  about  that  city  to  make  it  alto- 
gether desirable,  but  Dr.  Richards  was  not  yet  a  hardened 
wretch,  and  thoughts  of  another  than  Alice  Johnson, 
crowded  upon  his  mind  as  on  that  first  evening  of  his  return, 
he  sat  answering  questions  and  asking  others  of  his  own. 

Jt  was  late  ere  the  family  group  broke  up,  and  the 
storm  beating  so  furiously  upon  Spring  Bank,  was  just 
naking  its  voice  heard  round  Terrace  Hill  Mansion,  when 
the  doctor  took  the  lamp  the  servant  brought,  and  bid- 
ding his  mother  and  sisters  good-night,  ascended  the 
stairs  whither  Anna,  who  kept  early  hours,  had  gone  be- 
fore him.  She  was  not,  however,  in  bed,  and  when  she 
heard  his  step  passing  her  door  she  called  softly  to  him, 

"  John,  brother  John,  come  in  a  moment,  please." 


CHAPTER    V. 

A]STVf A   AND   JOHJ!f. 


lie  found  her  in  a  tasteful  di*essing  gown,  its  heavy  tas 
P^ls  almost  sweeping  the  floor,  while  her  long  glossy  haii 
loosened  from  its  confinement  of  ribbon  and  comb,  cover 
ed  her  neck  and  shoulders  as  she  sat  before  the  fire  al 
ways  kindled  in  her  room. 

"How  picturesque  you  look,"  he  said  gaily,  bending  hia 


50  HUGH   WORTHINGTON. 

knees  in  mock  homage  before  her.  Then  seating  himself 
upon  the  sofa  at  her  side,  he  wound  his  arm  around  lier 
and  waited  for  her  to  speak. 

*'  John,"  and  Anna's  voice  was  soft  and  pleading,  "  tell 
me  more  of  that  young  girl.     Did   you   love  her  very 
^much?" 

"  Love  her  !  yes,"  and  John  spoke  excitedly  wliile  the 
flush  deepened  on  his  cheek  when  Anna  continued,  "  wl.y 
didn't  you  marry  her  then  ?  " 

"  Why  didn't  I?  yes,  why  didn't  I?"  and  John  started 
to  his  feet ;  then  resuming  his  seat  again  he  continued, 
"why  didn't  you  marry  that  3flssionari/  who  used  to 
be  here  so  much  ?  Anna,  I  tell  you  there's  a  heap  of 
wrong  for  somebody  to  answer  for,  but  it  is  not  you,  and 
it  is  not  me  —  it's  —  its  mother !  "  and  John  whispered 
the  word,  as  if  fearful  lest  the  proud,  overbearing  woman 
should  hear. 

"  You  are  mistaken,"  Anna  replied,  "  for  as  far  as  Char- 
lie was  concerned  father  had  more  to  do  with  it  than 
mother.  He  objected  to  Charlie  because  he  was  poor  — 
because  he  was  a  missionary  —  because  he  was  not  an 
Episcopalian,  and  because  he  loved  me.  He  turned  Char- 
lie from  the  house  —  he  locked  me  in  my  room,  lest  I 
should  get  out  to  meet  him,  and  from  that  window  I 
watched  him  going  from  my  sight.  I've  never  seen  him 
since,  though  I  wrote  to  him  once  or  twice,  bidding  him 
forget  me  and  marry  some  one  else.  He  did  marry 
another,  but  I've  never  quite  believed  that  he  forgot  me. 
I  know,  though,  that  as  Hattie's  husband  he  would  do 
■l|;ight  and  be  true  to  her,  for  he  was  good,  and  when  I  waa 
with  him  I  was  better;  but  I've  forgotten  most  all  he 
taught  me,  and  the  way  he  pointed  out  so  clearly  seems 
dark  and  hard  to  find,  but  I  shall  find  it  —  yes,  Charlie,  I 
Bhall  find  it  out  at  last,  so  we  may  meet  in  Heaven.'' 

Anna  was  talking  more  to  herself  than  to  John,  and 
Charlie,  could  he  have  seen  her,  would  have  said  she  waa 


ANNA    AND   JOHN.  51 

not  far  from  the  narrow  way  which  leadcth  unto  life.  To 
John  her  white  fece,  irradiated  with  gleams  of  the  soft 
firelight,  was  as  the  face  of  an  angel,  and  for  a  time  he 
kept  silence  before  her,  then  suddenly  exclaimed. 

"Anna,  you  are  good,  and  so  was  she,  and  that  made 
fH  hard  tc  leave  her,  to  give  her  up.  Anna  do  you  know 
what  my  mother  wrote  me  ?  Listen,  while  I  tell,  then 
see  if  she  is  not  to  blame.  She  cruelly  reminded  me  that 
by  my  father's  will  all  of  us,  save  you,  were  wholly  de- 
pendent upon  her,  and  said  the  moment  I  threw  myself 
away  upon  a  low,  vulgar,  penniless  girl,  that  moment  she 
cast  me  off,  and  I  might  earn  ray  bread  and  hers  as  best  I 
could.  She  said,  too,  my  sisters,  Anna  and  all,  sanctioned 
what  she  wrote,  and  your  opinion  had  more  weight  than 
all  the  rest." 

"  Oh,  John,  mother  could  not  have  so  misconstrued  my 
words.  I  said  I  thought  it  would  be  best  for  you  not  to 
marry  her,  unless  you  were  too  far  committed ;  at  least 
you  might  wait  awhile,  and  w^hen  you  started  for  Europe 
so  abruptly,  I  thought  you  had  concluded  to  wait  and  see 
how  absence  would  affect  you.  Surely  my  note  explained 
—  I  sent  one  in  mother's  letter." 

« It  never  reached  me,"  John  said  bitterly,  while  Anna 
sighed  at  this  proof  of  her  mother's  treachery. 
Always  conciliatory,  however,  she  soon  remarked, 
"  You  are  sole  male  heir  to  the  Richards  name.  Moth- 
er's heart  and  pride  are  bound  up  in  you.  She  wishes 
you  to  make  a  brilliant  match,  such  as  she  is  sure  you 
can,  and  if  she  has  erred,  it  was  from  her  love  to  you  and 
her  wish  for  your  success.  A  poor,  unknown  girl  would 
only  add  to  our  expenses,  and  not  help  you  in  the  least, 
Bo  it's  for  the  best  that  you  left  her,  though  I'm  sorry  for 
tlie  girl.  Did  she  suffer  much?  What^vas  her  name? 
I've  never  heard." 

John  hesitated  a  moment  and  then  answered,  "I  called 
her  Lily,  she  was  so  fair  and  pure." 


52  HUGH    WOETHINGTON 

Anr/a  was  never  in  the  least  suspicious,  or  on  the  watch 
for  quibbles,  but  took  all  things  for  granted,  so  now  she 
thought  within  herself,  "  Lillian,  most  likely.  What  a 
sweet  name  it  is."  Then  she  said  aloud.  "  You  were 
not  engaged  to  her  outright,  were  you  ?  " 

John  started  forward  and  gazed  into  his  sister's  face 
with   an  expression  as  if  he  wished  she  would  question ' 
him  more  closely,  for  confession  to  such  as  she  might  ease 
his  burdened  conscience,  but  Anna  never  dreamed  of  a 
secret,  and  seeing  him  hesitate,  she  said, 

"  You  need  not  tell  me  unless  you  like.  I  only  thought 
maybe,  you  and  Lilly  were  not  engaged." 

"  W«  were  ;  "  and  rising  to  his  feet  John  leaned  his 
toreheai  upon  the  marble  mantel,  which  cooled  its  fever- 
ish thi  ^bbings.  "  Anna,  I'm  a  wretch  —  a  miserable 
wretch,  and  have  scarcely  known  an  hour's  peace  since  I 
left  her.^ 

"  Was  there  a  scene  ?  "  Anna  asked  ;  and  John  replied, 

"  Worse  than  that.  Worse  for  her.  She  did  not  know 
I  was  going  till  I  was  gone.  I  wrote  to  her  from  Paris, 
for  I  could  not  meet  her  face  and  tell  her  how  mean  I 
•was.  IVe  thought  of  her  so  much,  and  when  I  landed  in 
New  York  I  went  at  once  to  find  her,  or  at  least  to  in- 
quire, hoping  she'd  forgotten  me.  The  beldame  who 
kept  the  place  was  not  the  same  with  whom  I  had  left 
Lily,  but  she  knew  about  her,  and  told  me  she  died  with 

cholera  last  September.   She  and  —  oh,  Lily,  Lily ^ 

and  hiding  his  face  in  Anna's  lap,  John  Richards  sobbed 
like  a  little  child. 

Had  Anna  been  possessed  of  ordinary  penetration,  she 
would  have  guessed  that  behind  all  this  there  was  some- 
thing yet  untold,  but  she  had  literally  no  penetration  at 
all.  In  her  nature  there  was  no  deceit,  and  she  never 
suspected  it  in  others,  until  it  became  too  palpable  not  to 
be  seen.  Very  caressingly  her  white  hand  smoothed  the 
daintily  perfumed  hair  resting  on  her  dress,  and  her  own 


ANNA  AND  JOHN. 


53 


teare  mingled  with  her  wayward  brother's  as  she  thought, 
«« His  burden  is  greater  than  mine.  I  will  help  him  beai 
it  if  I  can." 

"  John,"  she  said  at  last,  when  the  sobbing  had  ceased, 
« I  do  not  think  you  so  much  to  blame  as  others,  and  you 
Tiust  not  reproach  yourself  so  bitterly.  You  say  Lily 
was  good.  Do  you  mean  she  was  a  Christian,  like  Char- 
He?" 

"  Yes,  if  there  ever  was  one.  Why,  she  used  to  make 
a  villain  like  me  kneel  with  her  every  night,  and  say  the 
Lord's  Prayer." 

For  an  instant,  a  puzzling  thought  crossed  Anna's  brain 
as  to  the  circumstances  which  could  have  brought  her 
brother  every  night  to  Lily's  side,  but  it  passed  away  im- 
mediately as  she  rejoined, 

« Then  she  is  safe  in  Heaven,  and  there  are  no  tears 
there ;  no  broken  hearts,  or  weary  hours  of  watching. 
We'll  try  to  meet  her  some  day.  You  did  right  to  seek 
her  out.  You  could  not  help  her  dying.  She  might 
have  died  had  she  been  your  wife,  so,.  I'd  try  to  think  it 
happened  for  the  best,  and  you'll  soon  get  to  believing  it 
did.  That's  my  experience.  You  are  young  yet,  only 
twenty-six,  and  life  has  much  in  store  for  you.  You'll 
find  some  one  to  fill  Lily's  place ;  some  one  whom  we 
shall  all  think  worthy  of  you,  and  we'll  be  so  happy  to- 
gether." 

The  Doctor  did  not  reply  to  this  but  sat  as  if  lost  in 
painful  thought,  until  he  heard  the  clock  strike  the  hour 
of  midnight. 

« 1  did  not  think  it  was  so  late,"  he  exclaimed,  "  I  must 
really  leave  you  now." 

Anna  would  not  keep  him  longer,  and  with  a  kiss  she 
sent  him  away,  herself  holding  the  door  a  little  ajar  to 
see  what  effect  the  new  carpet  would  have  upon  him.  It 
did  not  have  any  at  first,  so  much  was  he  absorbed  in 
thinking  of  Lily,  but  he  noticed  it  at  last,  admiring  ita 


54  HUGH  WOETHINGTOIf. 

pattern  and  having  a  pleasant  consciousness  that  every 
thing  in  his  room  was  in  keeping,  from  the  handsome 
drapery  which  shaded  the  windows  to  the  marble  hearth 
on  which  a  fire  was  blazing.  He  could  afford  to  have  a 
fire,  and  he  sat  enjoying  it,  thinking  far  different  thoughts 
from  Hugh  Worthington,  who,  in  his  scantily  furnished 
room,  sat,  with  a  curl  of  golden  hair  upon  the  stand  be 
side  him,  and  a  well  worn  Bible  in  his  hand.  Dr.  Rich 
ards  had  no  Bible  of  his  own  ;  he  did  not  read  it  now  — • 
had  never  read  it  much,  but  somehow  his  talk  with  Anna 
had  carried  him  back  to  the  time  when  just  to  please  hia 
Lily  he  had  said  with  her  the  Lord's  Prayer,  kneeling  at 
her  side  with  his  arm  around  her  girlish  form.  He  had 
not  said  it  since,  and  he  never  would  again,  he  thought. 
It  was  sheer  nonsense,  asking  not  to  be  led  into  tempta- 
tion, as  if  God  delighted  to  lead  us  there.  It  was  just  fit 
for  weak  women  to  believe,  though  now  that  Lily  was 
dead  and  gone  he  was  glad  that  she  had  believed  it,  and 
he  felt  that  she  was  better  off  for  having  said  those  pray- 
ers and  acted  up  to  what  she  said.  "  Poor  Lily,"  he  kept 
repeating  to  himself^  while  in  his  dreams  that  night  there 
w^ere  visions  of  a  lonely  grave  in  a  secluded  part  of  Green- 
wood, and  he  heard  again  the  startling  words, 

"  Dead,  both  she  and  the  child." 

He  did  not  know  there  was  a  child,  and  he  staggered 
m  his  sleep,  just  as  he  staggered  down  the  creaking  stairs, 
repeating  to  himself, 

"Lily's  :jhild  —  Lily's  child!  May  Lily's  God  forgive 
me!" 


ALICE   JOHNSON. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


ALICE    JOHNSON. 


The  Sunday  anticipated  by  Dr.  Richards  as  the  :n8 
which  was  to  bless  him  with  a  sight  of  Snowdon's  belle, 
dawned  at  last,  a  clear,  cold,  winter  morning,  when  the  aiT 
was  full  of  fi-ost,  and  the  crispy  snow  creaked  beneath  the 
tread,  and  glittered  like  diamonds  in  the  sunshine.  The 
Doctor  had  not  yet  made  his  appearance  in  the  village,  for 
a  hoarseness,  to  which  he  was  subject,  had  confined  him 
at  home,  and  Saturday  had  been  spent  by  him  in  rehears- 
ing to  his  sisters  and  the  servants  the  things  he  had  seen 
abroad,  and  in  wondering  if  Alice  Johnson  would  meet 
his  expectations.  He  did  not  believe  her  face  would  at  all 
compare  with  the  one  which  continually  haunted  hia 
dreams,  and  over  which  the  coffin-lid  was  shut  weary 
months  ago,  but  $50,000  had  invested  Miss  Alice  with 
that  peculiar  charm  which  will  sometimes  make  an  ugly 
face  beautiful.  The  Doctor  was  beginning  to  feel  the  need 
of  funds,  and  now  that  Lily  was  dead,  the  thought  had 
more  than  once  crossed  his  mind  that  to  set  himself  to  the 
task  of  finding  a  wealthy  wife  was  a  duty  he  owed  him- 
self and  his  family.  Had  poor,  deserted  Lily  lived,  he 
could  not  tell  what  he  might  have  done,  for  the  memory 
of  her  love  was  the  one  restraining  influence  which  kept 
him  from  much  sin.  He  never  could  forget  her ;  never 
love  another  as  he  had  once  loved  her,  but  she  was  dead 
and  he  was  free  to  do  his  mother's  will.  Similar  to  these 
were  the  Doctor's  cogitations,  as,  on  that  Sunday  morning, 
he  made  his  toilet  for  church,  anticipating  not  a  little  sat- 
isfaction from  the  sensation  he  was  sure  to  create  among 


&6  HUGH   WOKTHINGTON. 

some  of  the  worshippers  at  St.  Paul's,  for  he  remembered 
that  the  Terrace  Hill  gentry  had  always  been  people  of 
much  importance  to  a  certain  class  of  Snowdonites. 

Anna  was  not  with  the  party  which  at  the  usual  hour 
entered  the  family  carriage  with  Bibles  and  prayer-books 
'111  hand.  She  seldom  went  out  except  on  wann,  pleasant 
days  ;  but  she  stood  in  the  deep  bay  window  watching 
the  carriage  as  it  wound  down  the  hill  and  thinking,  how 
handsome  and  stylish  her  young  brother  looked  with  his 
Parisian  cloak  and  cap,  which  he  wore  so  gracefully. 
Others  than  Anna  thought  so  too;  and  at  the  church 
door  there  was  quite  a  little  stir,  as  he  gallantly  handed 
out  first  his  mother  and  then  his  sisters,  and  followed 
them  into  the  church. 

Dr.  Richards  had  never  enjoyed  a  reputation  for  being 
very  devotional,  and  the  interval  between  his  entrance 
and  the  commencement  of  the  service  was  passed  by  him 
in  a  rather  scornful  survey  of  the  time-worn  house,  which 
had  not  improved  during  his  absence.  With  a  sneer  in 
his  heart,  he  mentally  compared  the  old-fashioned  pulpit, 
with  its  steep  flight  of  steps  and  faded  trimmings,  with 
the  lofty  cathedral  he  had  been  in  the  habit  of  attending 
in  Paris,  and  a  feeling  of  disgust  and  contempt  for  people 
who  could  be  satisfied  with  a  town  like  Snowdon,  and  a 
church  like  St.  Paul's,  was  creeping  over  him,  when  a  soft 
rustling  of  silk  and  a  consciousness  of  a  delicate  perfume, 
which  he  at  once  recognized  as  aristocratic,  warned  him 
that  somebody  was  coming ;  somebody  entirely  different 
from  the  score  of  females  who  had  distributed  themselves 
'  within  range  of  his  vision,  their  countrified  bonnets,  as  he 
termed  them,  trimmed  outside  and  in  without  the  least 
regard  to  taste,  or  combination  of  color.  But  the  littlo 
lady,  moving  so  quietly  up  the  aisle,  her  full  skirt  of  dark 
blue  silk  trailing  as  she  came,  her  handsome  cloth  cloak, 
falling  so  gracefully  from  the  sloping  shoulders,  which  the 
L-  r  of  Russian  sable  fitted  so  well,  her  plain,  but  fashiona- 


ALICE   JOHNSON.  57 

ble  hat  tied  beneath  her  chin,  with  broad,  rich  rib- 
bon, the  color  of  her  dress,  her  dainty  Uttle  muff,  and, 
more  than  all,  the  tiny  glove,  fitting,  without  a  wrinkle,  the 
little  hand  which  tried  the  pew  door  twice  ere  it  yielded 
to  her  touch  ;  she  was  different.  She  was  worthy  of 
respect,  and  the  Paris  beau  felt  an  inclination  to  rise  at 
once  and  acknowledge  her  superior  presence. 

Wholly  unconscious  of  the  interest  she  was  exciting, 
the  lady  deposited  her  muff  upon  the  cushions,  and  then 
kneeling  reverently  upon  the  well  worn  stool,  covered 
her  face  with  the  hands  which  had  so  won  the  doctor's 
admiration.  What  a  little  creature  she  was,  and  how  glo- 
riously beautiful  were  the  curls  of  indescribable  hue,  flill- 
ing  in  such  profusion  from  beneath  the  jaunty  hat.  All 
this  Dr.  Richards  noted,  marvelling  that  she  knelt  so  long, 
and  wondering  what  she  could  be  saying.  His  mother 
and  sisters  did  the  same,  it  is  true,  but  he  always  imagin- 
ed it  was  merely  to  be  fashionable ;  but  in  the  attitude 
of  this  kneeler  at  his  side  there  was  something  which 
precluded  mockery.  Was  she  sincere  ?  Was  there  one 
hearing  what  she  said  —  an  ear  which  marked  the  faintest 
sigh  and  caught  the  weakest  tone  ?  He  wished  he  knew ; 
and  a  pang,  keen  as  the  cut  of  a  dissector's  knife,  shot 
through  his  heart,  as  he  remembered  another  maiden,  al- 
most as  fair  as  this  one,  kneeling  at  her  prayers.  Lily 
Lad  believed  in  Alice  Johnson's  God,  and  he  was  glad 
that  she  had  so  believed,  for  without  God,  poor  Lily's  short, 
gad  life  had  been  worse  than  vain  ! 

Alice's  devotions  ended  at  last,  and  the  view  so  coveted 
was  obtained;  for  in  adjusting  her  dress  Alice  turned 
oward  him,  or  rather  toward  his  mother,  and  the  doctor 
Irew  a  sudden  breath  as  he  met  the  brilliant  flashing  of 
those  laughing  sunny  blue  eyes,  and  caught  the  radiant 
expression  of  that  face,  slightly  dimpled  with  a  smile. 
Beautiful,  wondrously  beautiful  was  Alice  Johnson,  and 
yet  the  features  were  not  wholly  regular,  for  the  piquant 
3* 


58  HUGH    WORTHING  TON. 

nose  had  a  sliglit  turn  np,  aii'l  the  forehead  was  not  very- 
high  ;  but  for  all  this,  the  glossy  hair,  the  dancing  blue 
eyes,  tlie  apple-blossom  complexion,  and  the  rose-bud 
mouth  made  ample  amend  ;  and  Dr.  Richards  saw  no  fault 
in  that  witching  face,  flashing  its  blue  eyes  for  an  instan 
upon  liim,  and  then  modestly  turning  to  the  service  just 
commencing.  But  few  of  the  sacred  words,  we  fear,  took 
deejj  root  in  the  doctor's  heart  that  morning.  He  could 
scarcely  have  told  the  day,  certainly  not  the  text,  and  when 
the  benediction  was  pronounced  he  was  astonished  that 
what  he  had  dreaded  as  prosy  and  long  had  proved  to  be 
60  short. 

As  if  divining  his  wishes  hi  the  matter,  his  mother,  after 
waiting  a  moment,  till  Alice  arose  from  her  knees,  offered 
her  hand  to  the  young  girl,  inquired  kindly  for  Mrs. 
Johnson,  expressed  extreme  concern  when  told  of  a  heavy 
cold,  suggested  one  or  two  remedies,  commented  upon 
the  weather,  spoke  of  Mr.  Howard's  sermon,  and  then,  as 
if  all  the  while  this  had  not  been  the  chief  object  in  stop- 
ping, she  turned  to  the  eagerly  expectant  doctor,  whom 
she  introduced  as  "My  son.  Dr.  Richards." 

With  a  smile  which  he  felt  even  to  his  finger  tips,  Alice 
offered  him  her  hand,  welcoming  him  home,  and  making 
some  trivial  remark  touching  the  contrast  between  their 
quiet  tow^n  and  the  cities  he  had  left. 

"But  you  will  help  make  it  pleasanter  for  us  this  winter, 
I  am  sure,"  she  continued,  and  the  sweet  blue  eyes  sought 
his  for  an  answer  as  to  whether  he  would  desert  Snowdon 
immediately. 

"Xo,"  he  replied,  he  should  probably  remain  at  home 
some  time,  he  always  found  it  pleasant  at  Snowdon  • 
though  as  a  boy  he  had  often  chafed  at  its  dullness;  but  it 
could  not  now  be  dull,  with  the  acquisition  it  had  receis'ed 
since  he  was  there  before ;  and  he  bowed  toward  the 
y)ung  lady,  who  acknowledged  the  compliment  with  a 
faint  blush  and  then  turned  towai'd  the   grc  up  of  noisy 


ALICE  jonxsox.  59 

ill-bred  children,"  as  Dr.  Richards  thought,  who  came 
thronging  about  hei*,  one  offering  a  penny  lest  it  should 
be  forgotten,  a  second  whispering  that  Tommie  couldn't 
come  because  he  had  no  shoes,  while  a  third  climbed  up- 
on the  seat  for  the  kiss,  which  was  promptly  given,  the 
giver  all  unconscious  of  the  disgust  felt  by  the  foreign 
gentleman,  who  had  a  strong  desire  to  take  the  kissed  by*" 
the  neck  and  thrust  him  out  into  the  snow !  What  affini- 
ty was  there  between  that  sparkling,  beautiful  girl,  aad 
that  pack  of  vulgar  young  ones,  he'd  like  to  know  ? 
What  was  she  to  them,  or  they  to  her,  that  they  should 
cling  to  her  so  confidingly? 

"  My  Sunday  School  scholars  ;  I  have  a  large  class,  you 
see,"  Alice  said,  as  if  in  answer  to  these  mental  queries. 
Ah,  here  comes  my  youngest  — "  and  Alice  stooped  to 
caress  a  little  rosy  cheeked  boy,  with  bright  brown  eyes 
and  patches  on  both  coat  sleeves. 

The  doctor  saw  the  patches,  and  with  a  gesture  of  im- 
patience, tm-ned  to  go,  just  as  his  ear  caught  another  kiss, 
and  he  knew  the  patched  boy  received  what  he  would 
have  given  much  to  have. 

"Hanged  if  I  don't  half  wish  I  was  one  of  those  ragged 
urchins,"  he  said,  after  handing  his  mother  and  sisters  to 
their  carriage,  and  seating  himself  at  their  side.  "But 
does  not  Miss  Johnson  display  strange  taste.  Surely  some 
other  one  less  refined  might  be  found  to  look  after  those 
brats,  if  tliey  must  be  looked  after,  which  I  greatly  doubt. 
Better  leave  tJiem  as  you  find  them ;  can't  elevate  them 
if  you  try.  It's  trouble  thrown  away,"  and  John  Richards 
wrapped  his  Parisian  cloak  closer  around  him,  and  leaning 
back  in  his  corner,  wondered  if  Alice  Johnson  really  was 
ha})py  in  her  teaching,  or  did  she  do  it  for  effect. 

"  It  is  like  what  Lily  would  have  done,  he  thought,  had 
she  possessed  the  power  and  means.  Alice  and  Lily  must 
be  alike,"  and  with  a  mental  wish  that  Alice's  fate  might 
prove  a  happier  one  than  poor  Lily's  had  been,  John  re- 


60  HUGH   WORTIIINGTON. 

lapsed  into  a  silent  mood,  such  as  usually  came  over  him 
when  Lily  was  in  his  mind. 

That  afternoon,  while  his  mother  and  elder  sistere  were 
taking  their  usual  Sunday  nap,  and  Anna  was  nodding  in 
her  chair,  the  Doctor  sat  watching  tlie  blazing  fire  and 
trying  to  decide  upon  his  future  course. 

Should  he  return  to  New  York,  accept  the  offer  of  an 
old  friend  of  his  father's,  an  experienced  practitioner,  and 
earn  his  own  bread  honorably ;  or,  should  he  remain  at 
Snowdon  and  cultivate  Alice  Johnson  ?  Jolm  wanted 
money  sadly;  the  whole  family  wanted  money,  as  every 
hour  of  his  stay  among  them  proved.  They  were  grow- 
ing poor  so  fast,  and  it  showed  plainly,  in  spite  of  their 
attempts  to  conceal  it.  John  would  almost  as  soon  bo 
dead  as  be  poor.  He  never  had  denied  himself;  he  never 
could,  he  said,  though  well  he  knew  the  time  was  coming 
when  he  must,  unless,  to  use  Micawber's  expression, "  some- 
thing should  turn  up."  And  hadn't  it  turned  up  in  the 
shape  of  a  beautiful  heiress  ?  What  was  to  hinder  him 
fi'om  entering  the  lists  and  carrying  off  the  prize  ?  He 
had  never  yet  failed  when  he  chose  to  exert  himself,  and 
though  he  might,  for  a  time,  be  compelled  to  adopt  a  differ- 
ent code  of  morality  from  that  which  he  at  present  ac- 
knowledged, he  would  do  it  for  once.  He  could  be  inter- 
ested in  those  ragged  children ;  he  could  encourage  Sun- 
day schools  ;  he  could  attend  church  as  regularly  as  Alice 
herself  and,  better  yet,  he  could  doctor  the  poor  for  noth- 
ing, as  that  was  sure  to  tell,  and  he  would  do  it,  too,  if 
necessary.  This  was  the  finale  which  he  reached  at  last  by 
a  series  of  arguments  pro  and  con,  and  when  it  a'hs  reach- 
ed, he  was  anxious  to  commence  the  task  at  once.  He 
presumed  he  could  love  Alice  Johnson ;  she  was  so  pretty , 
but  even  if  he  didn't,  he  would  only  be  doing  what  thou- 
sands had  done  before  him.  He  should  be  very  proud  of 
her,  and  would  certainly  try  to  make  her  happy.  One 
long,  almost  sobbing  sigh  to   the  memory  of  poor  Lily, 


RIVERSIDE    COTTAGE.  61 

who  had  loved  so  much  and  been  so  cruelly  betrayed,  one 
faint  struggle  with  conscience,  which  said  that  Alice  Julm- 
son  was  too  pure  a  gem  for  him  to  trifle  with,  and  then 
the  past,  with  its  sad  memories,  was  buried.  Lily's  sweet 
pleading  face,  asking  that  no  other  one  should  be  wronged 
as  she  had  been,  was  thrust  aside,  and  Dr.  Richards  stood 
leady  for  his  new  career. 


CHAPTER  YII 

KIVEESIDE  COTTAGE. 

Mrs.  Johnson  did  not  like  Dr.  Richards  when  she  came 
to  know  him,  and  yet  he  was  an  almost  daily  visitor  at 
Riverside  Cott?ge,  where  one  face  at  least  grew  brighter 
when  he  came,  and  one  pair  of  eyes  beamed  on  him  a  wel- 
come. His  new  code  of  morality  worked  admirably,  and 
as  weeks  passed  away  he  showed  no  signs  of  weariness 
in  the  course  he  had  adopted.  Mr.  Howard  himself  was 
not  more  regular  at  church,  or  Alice  more  devout,  than 
Dr.  Richards.  The  children,  whom  he  had  denominated 
"  ragged  brats,"  were  no  longer  spurned  with  contempt, 
but  fed  instead  with  pea-nuts  and  molasses  candy,  the  doc- 
tor going  frequently  mto  the  by-lanes  where  they  lived, 
and  where  they  began  to  expect  him  almost  as  much  as 
Alice.  He  was  popular  with  the  children,  but  the  parents, 
clearer  sighted,  treated  him  most  shabbily  at  his  back,  ac- 
cusing him  of  caring  only  for  Miss  Alice's  good  opinion, 
and  of  being  at  heart  a  most  consummate  knave  ! 

This  was  what  the  poor  said,  and  what  many  others 
thought.  It  could  not  be  that  John  Richards,  whom  they 
had  known  from  boyhood  as  proud,  selfish,  and  overbear- 
ing, could  so  suddenly  change  his  entire  nature,  becoming 
at  once  so  amiable,  so  familiar,  so  generous,  so  much,  iu 


62  HUGH    TVORTniXGTON. 

sliorf,  like  Alice  liersclf  As  well  might  the  leopard  change 
its  spots,  and  many  were  the  insinuations  thrown  darkly 
at  Alice,  who  smiled  at  them  all  and  thought  how  little 
Dr.  Richards  was  understood. 

As  the  winter  passed  away  and  spring  advanced,  he 
ahowed  no  intentions  of  leaving  Snowdon,  but  on  the 
contrary  opened  an  office  in  the  village,  greatly  to  the  sur- 
prise of  the  inhabitants,  and  greatly  to  the  dismay  of  old 
Dr.  Rogers,  who  for  years  had  blistered  and  bled  the  good 
people  without  a  fear  of  rivalry. 

"Does  Dr.  Richards  intend  locating  permanently  in 
Snowdon  ?"  Mrs.  Johnson  asked  of  her  daughter  as  they 
sat  alone  one  evening. 

"  His  sign  would  indicate  as  much,"  was  Alice's  reply 

There  was  a  faint  sigh  in  the  direction  of  the  sofa,  on 
which  Mrs.  Johnson,  who  for  several  days  had  been  suf- 
fering from  a  severe  pain  in  her  head,  was  lying,  and  the 
sigh  smote  painfully  on  Alice's  ear,  for  well  she  guessed 
its  import. 

"Mother,"  she  said  gently,  as  leaving  her  chair  she 
came  and  knelt  by  her  mother's  side,  "  you  look  pale  and 
worried,  as  if  something  ailed  you  more  than  your  head. 
You  have  looked  so  for  some  time  past.  What  is  it, 
mother  ?  Are  you  very  sick,  or "  and  Alice  hesita- 
ted, "  are  you  troubled  about  me  ?  " 

'  Is  there  any  reason  why  I  should  be  troubled  about 
my  darling?"  asked  the  mother,  smoothing  fondly  the 
bright  curls  almost  touching  her  face. 

Alice  never  had  any  secrets  from  her  mother,  and  she 
answered  frankly,  "  I  don't  know,  unless  —  unless  —  moth- 
er, why  don't  you  like  Dr.  Richards?" 

The  ice  was  fairly  broken  now,  and  very  biiefly  but 
candidly  Mrs.  Johnson  told  why  she  did  not  like  him. 
He  was  handsome,  refined,  educated  and  agreeable,  she 
admitted,  but  there  was  something  lacking.  The  mask 
he   was  wearing   had  not  deceived   her,  and  she  would 


KIVEKSIDE    COTTAGE.  63 

Lave  liked  him  far  better  without  it.  This  she  said  to 
Alice,  adding  gently,  "  He  may  be  all  he  seems,  but  I  doubt 
it.  I  distrust  him  greatly.  I  think  he  fancies  you  and 
loves  your  money." 

"  Oh,  mother,  you  do  him  injustice,  and  he  has  been  so 
kind  to  us,  while  Snowdon  is  so  much  pleasanter  since  h 
came." 

"  Are  you  engaged  to  him  ?  "  was  Mrs.  Johnson's  neit 
question. 

"  No,"  and  Alice  looked  up  wonderingly.  "  I  do  not 
like  him  well  enough  for  that. 

Alice  Johnson  was  wholly  ingenuous  and  would  not  for 
the  world  have  concealed  a  thing  from  her  mother,  and 
very  fi'ankly  she  continued, 

"  T  like  Dr.  Richards  better  than  any  gentleman  I  have 
ever  met,  and  it  seems  to  me  that  people  here  do  him  in- 
justice, but  I  may  be  mistaken.  I  know  he  is  unpop- 
ular, and  that  first  made  me  sorry  for  him.  1  am  sure  he 
is  pleased  with  me,  but  he  has  never  asked  me  to  be  his 
wife.  I  should  have  told  you,  mother,"  and  the  beautiful 
eyes  which  had  so  charmed  the  doctor  looked  up  confid- 
ingly at  the  pale  face  bending  over  them. 

"  God  bless  my  darling,  and  keep  her  as  innocent  as 
now,"  Mrs.  Johnson  murmured,  bowing  her  head  upon 
her  daughter's,  and  kissing  the  rosy  cheek.  "  I  am  glad 
there  is  no  engagement.  Will  you  promise  there  shall 
not  be  for  one  year  at  least  ?  " 

It  was  a  hard  thing  to  ask,  for  more  than  she  guessed, 
till  then,  did  Alice's  heart  incline  toward  Dr.  Richards. 
Sli.y,  adroitly,  he  had  insinuated  himself  into  her  affec- 
tions, boasting  that  he  could  sway  her  at  will,  only  let  hira 
attend  the  Lenten  services,  week  days  and  all,  drop  some- 
thing in  the  plate  every  Sabbath,  speak  to  all  the  ragamuf- 
fins he  met,  take  old  Mrs.  Snyder  out  for  an  airing  ev- 
ery week,  and  he  was  all  right  with  Alice  Johnson.     And 


64  nuGH  woKxnrxGTON. 

this  was  the  man  from  whom  Mrs.  Johnson   would  save 
her  daughter,  asking  again  for  the  promise. 
«  Yes,  I  will,  I  do,"  Alice  said  at  last. 

A  second  "  God  bless  my  darling,"  came  from  the  moth- 
er's lips,  and  drawing  her  treasure  nearer  to  her,  she  con- 
tinued, "  You  have  made  me  very  happy,  and  by  and  by 
you'll  be  so  glad.  You  may  leave  me  now,  for  I  am  lireJ 
and  faint. 

It  was  long  ere  Alice  forgot  the  expression  of  her  moth 
er's  face  or  the  sound  of  her  voice,  as  she  bade  her  good 
night  on  that  last  evening  they  ever  spent  together  alone. 
The  indisposition  of  wliich  Mrs.  Johnson  had  been  com- 
plaining for  several  days,  proved  to  be  no  light  matter, 
and  when  next  morning  Dr.  Rogers  was  summoned  to  her 
bedside,  he  decided  it  to  be  a  fever  which  was  then  pre- 
vailing to  some  extent  in  the  neighboring  towns. 

That  afternoon  it  was  told  at  Ten-ace  Hill  that  Mrs. 
Johnson  was  very  sick,  and  half  an  hour  later  the  Rich- 
ards carriage,  containing  the  doctor  and  his  sister  Anna, 
wound  down  the  hill,  and  passing  through  the  park,  turn- 
ed in  the  direction  of  the  cottage,  where  they  found  Mrs. 
Johnson  worse  than  they  had  anticipated.  The  sight  of 
distress  roused  Anna  at  once,  and  forgetting  her  own  fee- 
bleness she  kindly  offered  to  stay  until  night  if  she  could 
be  of  any  service.  Mrs.  Johnson  was  fond  of  Anna,  and 
she  expressed  her  pleasure  so  eagerly  that  Anna  decided 
to  remain,  and  went  with  Alice  to  remove  her  wrap- 
pings. 

"  Oh,  I  forgot  I  "  she  exclaimed,  as  a  sudden  thought 
seemed  to  strike  her.  "  I  don't  know  as  I  can  /?tay  after 
all,  though  I  might  write  it  here,  I  suppose,  as  well  as  at 
/lome  ;  and  as  John  is  going  to  'New  York  to-night  he  \^ill 
take  it  along." 

"  What  is  it?  "  Alice  asked  ;  and  Anna  replied, 

"You'll  think  me  very  foolish,  no  doubt;  th«y  all  do, 
especially  John,  and  have  tried  to  laugh  me  ou<  of  it,  but 


RIVERSIDE    COTTACTE.  65 

I  have  thoaght  about  it,  and  dreamed  about  it,  until  it  ia 
impressed  upon  me  that  I  must  do  it,  and  I  had  decided 
to  attend  to  it  this  very  day,  when  we  heard  of  your 
mother's  illness,  and  John  persuaded  me  to  come  here 
with  him,  as  he  wished  to  say  good  bye  to  you." 

"  I'll  get  you  writing  materials  if  you  like,'*  Alice  said 

or  you  can  go  at  once  to  the  library.  Your  brother  will 
^■ait,  I  am  sure." 

"  Yes ;  but  I  want  to  know  if  you  too  think  me  foolish. 
I'm  so  dependent  on  others'  opinions  ;"  and,  in  a  low  tone, 
Anna  told  how  long  she  had  been  wanting  some  nice 
young  person  to  be  constantly  with  her  as  companion  or 
waiting-maid,  and  of  the  advertisement  seen  early  last 
winter,  how  queerly  it  was  expressed,  and  how  careless 
John  had  been  in  tearing  off  the  name  and  address,  with 
which  to  light  his  cigar.  "  It  seems  to  me,"  she  continu- 
ed, "  that  *  unfortunate  married  woman 'is  the  very  one 
I  want.  I  cannot  account  for  the  interest  I  feel  in  her, 
and  in  spite  of  all  my  family  can  say,  I've  concluded  to 
write,  and  let  John  take  it  to  the  Heraldr 

"  Yes  ;  but  how  will  you  find  her  ?  I  understand  that 
the  address  was  burned,"  Alice  rejoined  quickly,  feeling 
herself  that  Anna  was  hardly  sane  in  her  calculations. 

"  Oh,  I've  fixed  that  in  the  wording,"  Anna  answered. 
"  I  do  not  know  as  it  will  ever  reach  her,  it's  been  so  long, 
but  if  it  does,  she'll  be  sure  to  know  I  mean  -her,  or  some- 
body like  her." 

It  was  not  at  all  clear  to  Alice,  but  she  made  no  objec- 
tions, and  taking  her  silence  as  a  tacit  approval  of  her 
project,  Anna  followed  her  to  the  library, 

"  I  dislike  writing  very  much,"  she  said,  as  she  saw 
the  array  of  materials,  "  and  I  write  so  illegibly  too.  Please 
do  it  for  me,  that's  a  dear,  good  girl,"  and  she  gave  the 
pen  to  Alice,  who  wrote  the  first  word, "  Wanted,"  and 
then  waited  for  Anna  to  dictate. 


00  HUGH    WORTinNGTOlS^. 

"Wanted.  —  By  an  invalid  lady,  whose  home  is  m 
the  country,  a  young  woman,  who  will  be  both  usefiil 
and  agi-eeable,  either  as  a  companion  or  waiting-maid. 
No  objection  will  be  raised  if  the  woman  is  married,  and 
unfortunate,  or  has  a  child  a  few  months  old. 
"  Address, 

"  A.  E.  R.,  Snowdon,  Hampden  Co.,  Mass." 

"  That  is  what  will  assure  her,  should  she  ever  see  it," 
Anna  said,  pointing  to  the  lines, — 

"No  objection  raised  if  the  young  woman  is  married 
and  unfortunate,  or  has  a  child  a  few  months  old. " 

Alice  thought  it  the  queerest  advertisement  she  had 
ever  seen,  but  Anna  was  privileged  to  do  queer  things, 
and  folding  the  paper,  she  went  out  into  the  hall,  where 
the  doctor  sat  waiting  for  her.  Handing  him  the  note, 
fihe  was  about  to  explain  its  import,  when  Anna  joined 
her,  and  explained  herself,  charging  him  to  attend  to  it 
the  very  first  thing. 

John's  mustached  lip  curled  a  little  scornfully  as  he 
read  it. 

"  Why,  puss,  that  girl  or  woman  is  in  Georgia  by  this 
time,  and  as  the  result  of  this,  Terrace  Hill  will  be  throng- 
ed with  unfortunate  women  and  children,  desiring  situa- 
tions. They'll  stand  three  deep  from  the  park  gate  to  the 
house.  Better  let  me  burn  this,  as  I  did  the  other,  and 
not  be  foolish.  She  will  never  see  it,"  and  John  made  a 
gesture  as  if  he  would  put  it  in  the  stove,  but  Anna  caugh  ,. 
his  hand,  saying  imploringly,  "Please  humor  me  this  once, 
She  may  see  it,  and  I'm  so  interested." 

Anna  was  always  humored,  and  so  the  doctor  placed 
in  his  memorandum  book  the  note,  then  tumin<y  to  Alice 
he  addressed  her  in  so  low  a  tone  that  Anna  readily  took 
the  hint  and  left  them  together.  Dr.  Richards  was  not 
intending  to  be  gone  long,  he  said,  though  the  time 
would  seem  a  little  eteniity,  so  much  was  his  heart  now 
bound  up  in  Snowdon. 


RIVERSIDE    COTTAGE.  67 

Afraid  lest  he  might  say  something  more  cf  the  same 
nature,  Alice  hastened  to  ask  if  he  had  seen  her  mother, 
and  what  he  thought  of  her. 

I  stepped  in  for  a  moment  while  you  were  m  the 
library,"  he  replied.  "  She  seemed  to  have  a  high  fever, 
and  I  fancied  it  in(;reased  while  I  stood  by  her.  I  am 
sorry  to  leave  while  she  is  so  sick,  but  remember  that  if 
anything  happens  you  will  be  dearer  to  me  than  ever," 
and  the  doctor  pressed  the  little  hand  which  he  took  in 
his  to  say  good-bye,  for  now  he  must  really  go. 

With  a  swelling  heart  Alice  w^atcbed  him  as  he  left 
the  house,  and  then  running  to  her  own  room  locked  the 
door  and  throwing  herself  upon  the  bed  sobbed  bitterly. 
What  did  his  words,  "  if  anything  happens'  imply  ?  Did 
he  think  her  mother  so  very  sick?  Was  she  going  to 
die  ?  "  Oh,  mother,  mother !  I  will  not  let  her  go !  "  was 
the  cry  of  a  heart  which  at  first  rebelled  against  the 
threatened  blow,  refusing  to  receive  it.  Anon,  however 
better,  calmer  thoughts  succeeded,  and  though  Alice  could 
not  yet  say  *'  Thy  will  be  done,"  she  was  not  so  rebellious, 
and  a  pleading  prayer  went  up,  "  Spare,  oh,  spare  my  moth- 
er," while  hope  whispered  that  this  terrible  calamity  w^ould 
not  happen  to  her. 

As  the  day  and  night  wore  on  Mrs.  Johnson  grew  worse 
so  rapidly  that  at  her  request  a  telegram  was  forwarded 
to  Mr.  Liston,  who  had  charge  of  her  moneyed  affairs, 
and  who  came  at  once,  for  the  kind  old  man  was  deeply 
interested  in  the  widow  and  her  lovely  daughter.  As 
Mrs.  Johnson  could  bear  it,  they  talked  alone  together 
until  he  perfectly  understood  what  her  wishes  were  with^ 
regard  to  Alice,  and  how  to  deal  with  Dr.  Richards, 
Then  promising  to  return  again  in  case  the  worst  should 
happen,  he  took  his  leave,  while  Mrs.  Johnson,  now  that  a 
weight  was  lifted  from  her  mind,  seemed  to  rally,  and  the 
physician  pronounced  her  better.     But  with  that  strange 


68  HUGH   WOETDINGTON. 

foreknowledge,  which  sometimes  comes  to  people  whose 
days  are  nearly  numbered,  she  felt  tliat  she  would  die,  and 
that  in  mercy  this  interval  of  rest  and  freedom  from  pain 
was  gi anted  her,  in  which  she  might  talk  with  Alice  con- 
cerning the  arrangements  for  the  future. 

**  Alice,  darling,"  she  said,  when  they  were  alone,  "  come 
flit  by  me  here  on  the  bed  and  listen  to  what  I  say." 

Alice  obeyed,  and  taking  her  mother's  hot  hand  in  hers 
she  waited  for  what  was  to  come. 

"  Alice,  darling,  are  you  willing  to  be  lefl  alone  for  a 
little  while  ?  It  won't  be  long,  and  our  Father  in  Heaven 
knows  best  what  is  for  our  good." 

"  Oh,  mother,  don't ;  you  will  not  die,"  and  Alice  sobbed 
convulsively.  "Last  night,  when  I  thought  you  were  in 
danger,  I  prayed  so  hard  to  be  willing,  but  I  couldn't,  oh, 
I  couldn't,  and  God  seemed  a  great  ways  off —  seemed  as 
if  be  did  not  hear.  In  all  the  wide  world  I  can  never  find 
another  mother,  and  I  shall  be  so  desolate." 

Mrs.  Johnson  knew  just  how  desolate  her  dying  would 
leave  her  child,  for  she  had  felt  the  same,  and  for  a  few 
moments  she  strove  to  comfort  the  weeping  girl,  who  hid 
her  face  in  the  pillows,  by  telling  her  of  One  who  will 
surely  care  for  the  orphan ;  for  he  has  said  he  would,  and 
his  word  never  fails. 

"  You  have  learned  to  trust  him  in  prosperity,  and  He 
will  be  a  thousand  fold  nearer  to  you  in  adversity.  You'll 
miss  me,  I  know,  and  be  very  lonely  without  me,  but  you 
are  young,  and  life  has  many  charms  for  you,  besides  God 
will  never  forget  or  forsake  his  covenant  children." 

Gradually  as  she  talked  the  sobbing  ceased,  and  when 
the  white  face  lifted  itself  from  its  hiding  place  ti:  ere  wag 
a  look  upon  it  as  if  the  needed  strength  had  been  sough*, 
and  to  some  extent  imparted. 

"My  will  was  made  some  time  ago,"  Mrs.  Johnson  con- 
tinued, "  and  that  with  a  few  exceptions,  such  as  legacies 
to  your  nurse  Densie  Densmore,  and  some  charitable  insti 


RIVEESIDE    COTTAGE.  t)» 

tutions,  you  are  my  sole  heir.  Mr.  Liston  is  to  be  youi 
guardian,  and  will  look  after  your  interests  until  you  are 
of  age,  or  longer  if  you  choose.  You  know  that  as  both 
your  father  and  myself  were  only  children,  you  have  no 
near  relatives  on  either  side  to  whom  you  can  look  for 
pi  otection.  There  is  a  kind  of  second  cousin,  it  is  true, 
the  old  gentlemon  who  visited  us  just  before  we  camt 
here.  But  his  family  are  gay,  fashionable  people,  and 
I'd  rather  you  should  not  go  there,  even  if  he  were 
willing.  Mr.  Liston  would  gi\^  you  a  home  with  him, 
but  I  do  not  think  that  best  and  there  is  but  one  other 
alternative. 

"  You  will  remember  having  heard  me  speak  occasion- 
ally of  a  friend  now  living  in  Kentucky,  a  Mrs.  Worth - 
ington  whose  husband  was  a  distant  relative  of  ours. 
Ralph  Worthington  and  your  father  were  school  boys  to- 
gether, and  afterward  college  companions.  They  were 
more  like  brothers  than  friends ;  indeed,  they  were  often 
likened  to  David  and  Jonathan,  so  strongly  were  they  at- 
tached to  each  other. 

I  was  but  sixteen  when  I  became  a  bride,  and,  as  you 
know,  several  years  elapsed  ere  God  blessed  me  with  a  liv- 
ing child.  Your  father  was  consumptive,  and  the  chances 
were  that  I  should  early  be  left  a  wadow.  This  it  was,  I 
think,  which  led  to  the  agreement  made  by  the  two  friends 
to  the  effect  that  if  either  died  the  living  one  should  care 
for  the  widow  and  fatlierless  as  for  a  brother's  family.  To 
see  the  two  as  they  pledged  themselves  to  keep  this  sol- 
emn compact,  you  would  not  have  guessed  that  the  tall, 
athletic,  broad  chested  Ralph,  would  be  the  first  to  go,  yet 
8')  it  was.     He  died  ere  you  were  born." 

**  Then  he  is  dead  ?  Oh,  I'm  so  sorry,"  Alice  exclaimed. 
"  Yes,  he's  dead ;  and,  as  far  as  possible,  your  father  ful- 
filled his  promise  to  Ralph's  wddow  and  her  child  —  a  little 
boy,  five  years  old,  of  whom  Mrs.  Worthington  herself 
was  appointed  guardian.     I  never  knew  what  spirit  of 


70  HUGH    AVORTHINGTON. 

evil  possessed  Eliza  who  had  been  my  schoolmate  and 
to  whom  I  was  greatly  attached  ;  but  iu  less  than  a  year 
after  her  husband's  death,  she  made  a  second  and  most  un- 
fortunate marriage.  We  both  opposed  it,  for  we  distrust- 
ed the  man.  As  the  result  of  our  opposition,  a  coohiosg 
prang  up  between  us,  and  we  saw  but  little  of  each  othi^i 
after  that.  Mr.  Murdoch  proved  a  greater  scoundrel  than 
we  supposed,  and  when  their  little  girl  was  nearly  rwo 
years  old,  we  heard  of  a  divorce.  Mr.  Johnson's  health 
was  fiiiling  fast,  and  we  were  about  to  make  the  tour  of 
Europe,  in  hopes  a  change  would  benefit  him.  Just  before 
we  sailed  we  visited  poor  Eliza,  whom  we  found  doubly 
heart-broken,  for,  in  addition  to  the  other  outrages  heap- 
ed upon  her,  the  brutal  wretch  had  managed  to  steal  her 
beautiful  daughter,  and  carried  it  no  one  knew  whither. 
I  never  shall  forget  the  distress  of  the  brother.  I've  often 
thought  of  him  since,  and  wondered  what  he  had  grown 
to  be.  We  comforted  Eliza  as  best  we  could,  and  left 
money  to  be  used  for  her  in  case  she  needed  it.  Then  we 
embarked  with  you  and  Dcnsie  for  Europe.  You  know 
how  for  a  while,  your  father  seemed  to  regain  his  strength, 
how  he  at  last  grew  worse  and  hastened  home  to  die. 
In  the  sorrow  and  excitement  which  followed,  it  is  not 
strange  that  Eliza  was  for  a  time  forgotten,  and  when  I  re- 
membered and  enquired  for  her  again,  I  heard  that  Hugh 
had  been  adopted  by  some  relation  in  Kentucky,  that  the 
stolen  child  had  been  mysteriously  returned,  and  was  liv- 
ing with  its  mother  in  Elmswood  —  a  quiet,  out-of-the-way 
town,  which  I  never  visited  until  that  summer  when  you 
^went  West  with  the  Gilmores. 

"At  first  Eliza  appeared  a  little  cool,  but  this  socn 
wore  ofi^  and  was  mostly  owing,  I  fancy,  to  the  mortifica- 
tion she  felt  at  my  finding  her  in  circumstances  so  chang- 
ed from  what  they  used  to  be,  for,  though  managing  to  keep 
up  a  genteel  exterior,  she  was  really  very  poor.  She  did 
not  talk  much  of  Hugh.     Indeed,  she  knew  but  little  of 


RIVERSIDE    COTTA.GE.  71 

him,  as  his  letters  were  far  apart,  and  only  contained  praisea 
of  his  1  orses,  his  dogs,  and  the  rare  sport  he  had  in  hunt- 
ing with  his  eccentric  uncle,  whose  name  I  have  forgotten. 
Neither  did  she  say  much  of  Adaline,  who  was  then  away 
at  school.  Still  my  visit  was  a  sadly  satisfactory  one,  as 
we  recalled  old  times  when  we  were  girls  together  wecj)- 
ing  over  our  great  loss  when  our  liusbands  were  laid  to 
rest.  Then  we  spoke  of  their  friendshii),  and  lastly  of  the 
contract. 

«*It  sounds  preposterous  in  me,  I  know,'  Mrs.  Worth- 
ington  said,  when  we  parted,  '  you  are  so  rich  and  I  so 
poor,  but  if  ever  Alice  should  want  a  mother's  care,  I  will 
gladly  give  it  to  her.' 

"This  was  nearly  eight  years  ago.  And,  as  I  failed  to 
write  her  for  a  long,  long  time,  while  she  was  long  in  an- 
swering, the  correspondence  ceased  till  just  before  her 
removal  to  Kentucky,  when  she  apprised  me  of  the  change. 
You  have  now  the  history  of  Mrs.  Worthington,  the  only 
person  who  comes  to  mind  as  one  to  whose  care  I  can 
entrust  you." 

"But,  mother,  I  may  not  be  wanted  there,"  and  Alice's 
lip  quivered  painfully.  "  Adaline  is  a  young  lady  now, 
and  Hugh,  what  of  him,  mother  ?     What  is  he  ?  " 

Mrs.  Johnson  could  not  tell ;  neither  did  she  know  if 
her  darling  would  be  welcome,  but  money,  she  knew,  had 
a  charm,  and  she  replied  to  Alice's  queries, 

"  You  will  not  go  empty  handed,  nor  be  a  burden  to 
them.  They  are  poor,  and  money  will  not  come  amiss. 
We  can  but  try  at  all  events,  and  if  they  object,  Mr.  Lis- 
ton  will  do  the  best  he  can  for  you.  Fgr  some  weeks,  it 
has  been  impressed  upon  me  that  my  time  was  short,  and 
"aricying  it  could  do  no  harm,  I  have  written  to  Mis. 
Worthington  a  letter  which  you  will  send  when  I  am 
gone.  1  have  asked  her  to  receive  you,  to  care  for  you 
as  her  ewn.  I  said  that  Mr.  Liston  would  attend  to  all 
j.iecuniary  matters,  paying  your  allowance  quarterly ;  and 


72  HUGH    WORTIIINGTON. 

I  am  sure  you  will  not  object  when  I  tell  you  that  I  tnink 
it  right  to  leave  Adaline  the  sum  of  one  thousand  dollar?. 
It  will  not  materially  lessen  your  inheritance,  and  it  W.il 
do  her  a  world  of  good.  Mr.  Liston  will  arrange  it  for 
yo'i.  You  will  remain  here  until  you  hear  fronr  Mrs. 
Wortliington,  and  then  abide  by  her  arrangement*.  She 
is  a  gentle,  affectionate  woman,  and  will  be  kind  to  you. 
1  do  not  know  tliat  she  is  a  Christian,  but  your  influence 
may  do  her  good,  and  make  her  bless  the  da|  when  you 
were  sent  to  her.  Will  you  go,  my  daughter  —  go  cheer- 
fully.?" 

"  Yes,  mother,  I'll  go,"  came  gaspingly  from  Alice's  lips 
I'll  go  but,  mother,  oh,  mother,"  and  Alice's  cry  ended  as  it 
always  did,  "  you  will  not,  you  must  not  die  !  " 

But  neither  tears,  nor  prayers  could  avail  to  keep  the 
mother  longer.  Her  work  on  earth  was  done,  and  after 
this  conversation^  she  grew  worse  so  rapidly  that  hope 
died  out  of  Alice's  heart,  and  she  knew  that  soon  she 
would  be  motherless.  There  were  days  and  nights  of 
pain  and  delirium  in  which  the  sick  woman  recognized 
none  of  those  around  her  save  Alice,  whom  she  continually 
blessed  as  her  darling,  praying  that  God,  too,  would  bless 
and  keep  his  covenant  child.  At  last  there  came  a  change, 
and  one  lovely  Sunday  morning,  when  the  sunlight  lay 
upon  the  springing  grass  and  sparkled  on  the  river,  when 
the  air  was  laden  ^:vith  the  early  flowers'  perfume,  and  birds 
were  singing  b\  Jie  door,  the  delirium  passed  away,  and 
in  the  room  so  long  kept  dark  and  still,  were  heard  whis- 
pered words  of  joy,  of  peace,  of  perfect  rest,  such  as  the 
d^ang  Christian  only  feels.  It  was  early  moniing  then 
and  ere  the  bell  from  St.  Paul's  tower  sent  forth  its  sum 
mons  to  the  house  of  God,  there  rang  from  its  belfry  a 
solemn  toll,  and  the  villagers  listening  to  it,  said,  as  they 
coimted  forty-four,  that  Mrs.  Johnson  was  dead. 


MK.   LISTON   AND    THE    DOCTOE.  78 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


LISTON  AND  THE  DOCTOR. 


Among  Snowdon's  poor  that  day,  as  well  as  among  the 
wealthier  class,  there  was  many  an  aching  heart,  and  many 
a  prayer  was  breathed  for  the  stricken  Alice,  not  less  beloy- 
ed  than  the  mother  had  been.  At  Terrace  Hill  Mansion* 
much  sorrow  was  expressed,  and  among  the  older  sisters 
a  considerable  anxiety  felt  as  to  whether  this  sudden  death 
would  postpone  indefinitely  the  marriage  they  had  looked 
upon  as  sure  to  take  place  between  their  brother  and  the 
youthful  heiress.  They  hoped  not,  for  money  was  great- 
ly needed  at  Terrace  Hill.  In  the  familiar  intercourse 
which  latterly  had  existed  between  themselves  and  Alice 
they  had  seen  enough  to  know  how  generous  and  free  she 
was.  Once  their  sister,  and  Terrace  Hill  would  blossom 
again  as  the  rose.  On  the  wliole  it  was  very  unfortunate 
that  Mrs.  Johnson  should  have  died  so  unexpectedly,  and 
they  did  wish  John  was  there  to  comfort  the  young  girl 
who,  they  heard,  refused  to  see  any  one  except  the  clergy- 
man and  Mr.  Liston. 

"  Suppose  we  telegraph  for  John,"  Kudora  said,  and  in 
less  than  two  hours  thereafter.  Dr.  Richards  in  New  York 
read  that  Alice  was  an  orphan. 

There  was  a  pang  as  he  thought  of  her  distress,  a  wish 
that  he  were  with  her,  and  then  the  thought  arose,  "  What; 
if  she  does  not  prove  as  w^ealthy  as  I  have  supposed.  Will 
that  make  any  difference?" 

He  knew  it  would,  for  though  more  interested  in  Alice 

than  he  supposed  he  could  be  in  any  one  after  poor  Lily 

died,  he  was  far  too  mercenary  to  let  his  affections   run 

away  with  his  judgment,  and  could  the  stricken  Alice  have 

4 


74  niTon  wortiiington. 

looked  into  his  heart  and  seen  what  his  cogitati  )ns  were 
that  morning,  when  at  the  St.  Nicholas  he  snt  thinking 
how  her  mother's  loss  might  possibly  affect  him,  she  would 
have  shrunk  from  him  in  horror.  He  had  best  go  homo 
at  once,  he  said,  and  on  the  day  appointed  for  the  funeral 
he  reached  the  station  adjoining  Snowdon,  where  ]i« 
alighted,  as  the  Express  train  did  not  stop  in  the  next  town. 
It  was  not  more  than  two  miles  to  Terrace  Hill  across  tlio 
fields,  and  as  he  preferred  walking  to  riding,  he  sauntered 
slowly  on,  thinking  of  Alice  and  wishing  he  did  know  just 
the  amount  left  her  by  her  mother. 

"I  must  do  something,"  he  soliloquized,  "or  how  can  I 
ever  pay  those  debts  in  New  York,  of  which  mother 
knows  nothing  ?     I  wish  that  widow " 

He  did  not  finish  his  wishes,  for  a  turn  in  the  path 
brought  him  suddenly  f  ice  to  face  with  Mr.  Liston,  whom 
he  had  seen  at  a  distance,  and  whom  he  recognized  at 
once. 

"I'll  quiz  the  old  codger,"  he  thought.  "He  don't,  of 
course,  know  me,  and  will  never  suspect  my  object." 

JMistaken  doctor!  The  old  codger  was  fully  prepared. 
He  did  know  Dr.  Richards  by  sight,  and  was  rather  glad 
than  otherwise  when  the  elegant  dandy,  taking  a  seat 
upon  the  gnarled  roots  of  the  tree  under  which  he  was 
sitting,  made  some  trivial  remark  about  the  weather,  which 
was  very  propitious  for  the  crowed  who  were  sure  to  at- 
tend Mrs.  Johnson's  funeral. 

Yes,  Mr.  Liston  presumed  there  would  be  a  crowd.  It 
was  very  natural  there  should  be,  particularly  as  the  de- 
••ceased  was  greatly  beloved  and  was  also  reputed  wealiliy. 
"  It  beats  all  what  a  difference  it  makes,  even  after  deatli, 
whether  one  is  supposed  to  be  rich  or  poor,"  and  the  codger 
woiked  away  industriously  at  the  pine  stick  he  was  wliit- 
tling. 

"But  in  this  case  the  supposition  of  riches  must  be  cor- 
rect, though  I  know  people  are  oftener  over  valued  than 


MR.   LISTON    AND    THE    DOCTOR.  75 

Otherwise,"  and  with  his  gold-headed  cane  the  doctor 
thrust  at  a  dandelion  growing  near. 

"  Nothing  truer  than  that,"  returned  the  whittler,  brush- 
ing the  litter  fromhis  lap.  "  Now  I've  no  doubt  that  prig 
of  a  doctor,  who  they  say  is  sliining  np  to  Alice,  will  be 
fdisappointed  when  he  finds  just  how  much  she's  worth. 
Let  me  see.  What  is  his  name  ?  Lives  up  there,"  and 
with  his  jack-knife  Mr.  Liston  pointed  toward  Terrace 
Hill. 

Smothering  his  desire  to  throttle  and  then  pitch  into 
the  river  the  old  man,  calling  him  a  a  prig  of  a  doctor,  so 
coolly  and  deliberately  marring  his  golden  visions,  the 
doctor  answered,  naturally,  _ 

"  The  Kichards  family  live  there,  sir.  You  mean  their 
son,  I  presume." 

"  Yes,  the  chap  that  has  travelled  and  come  home  so 
changed.  They  do  say  he's  actually  taken  to  visiting  all 
the  rheumatic  old  women  in  town,  applying  sticking  plas- 
ters to  their  backs  and  adminstering  squills  to  their  chil- 
dren, all  free  gratis.  Don't  ask  a  red  —  does  it  for  chari- 
ty's sake  :  but  I  know  he  expects  to  get  his  pay  out  of 
Alice's  purse,  as  he  does  it  to  please  her  and  nothing  else. 
He  ought  to  be  rewarded  for  all  his  philanthropy  with  a 
rich  wife,  that's  a  fact.  It's  too  bad  to  have  him  so  disap- 
pointed, and  if  he  comes  out  to  the  funeral  I  believe  I'll 
tell  him  as  a  friend  that  my  advice  is,  not  to  marry  for 
^money  —  it  won't  pay,"  and  from  beneath  the  slouched 
hat  drawn  so  closely  over  the  comical  face,  the  keen  gray 
eyes  looked  curiously. 

Poor  doctor!  How  he  fidgeted,  moving  so  often  that 
his  tormenter  demurely  asked  him  if  he  were  sitting  on  a 
thistle  ! 

"Dues  Miss  Johnson  remain  here?"  the  doctor  asksJ 
at  last,  and  Mr.  Liston  replied  by  telling  what  he  knew 
of  the  arrangements. 

At  the  mention  of  Worthington  the  doctor,  looked  up 


f  J  HUGH    WORTIIIXGTON. 

quickly.  WLom  had  he  known  by  that  name,  or  where 
had  he  he.-^rd  it  before?  "Mrs.  Worthington,  Mrs.  Wor- 
thington/'  he  repeated,  unpleasant  memories  of  something, 
he  knew  not  what,  rising  to  his  mind.  Is  she  living  in 
this  vicinity  ?  " 

"In  Kentucky.  It's  a  widow  and  her  daughter,"  Mr. 
liiston  answered,  wisely  resolving  to  say  nothing  of  a 
young  man,  lest  the  doctor  should  feel  anxious. 

"A  widow  and  her  daughter!  I  must  be  mistaken  in 
thinking  I  ever  knew  any  one  by  that  name,  though  it 
seems  familiar,"  said  the  doctor,  and  as  by  this  time  he 
had  heard  all  he  wished  to  hear,  he  arose,  and  bidding  Mr. 
Liston  good  morning  walked  away  in  no  enviable  frame 
of  mind. 

"I  didn't  tell  liim  a  lie.  He  will  be  disappointed  when 
he  finds  just  how  much  she  is  worth,  and  my  advice  to 
him,  or  any  other  man,  is  not  to  marry  for  money,"  Mr. 
Liston  chucklingly  soliloquized  as  he  watched  the  crest- 
fallen doctor  disappearing  from  view,  muttering  to  himself, 
"  The  wretch !  to  talk  so  to  my  face !  I  wish  I'd  knocked 
him  down.  Rheumatic  woman  and  squills,  indeed  !  But 
it's  all  true,  every  word,  and  that's  the  worst  of  it.  I  have 
turned  fool  just  to  get  a  pretty  girl,  or  rather  to  get  her 
money.  But  I  won't  stay  here  to  be  laughed  at.  I'll  go 
back  this  very  day.  I  am  glad  no  one  has  seen  me  except 
that  old  rat,  who  never  guessed  I  was  the  chap  he  compli- 
mented so  highly,  the  rascal !  " 

Looking  at  his  watch  the  doctor  found  that  it  lacked 
several  hours  ere  the  express  from  Boston  was  due.  But 
this  did  not  discourage  him.  He  would  stay  in  the  fields 
or  anywhere,  and  turning  backward  he  followed  the  course 
of  the  river  winding  under  the  hill  until  ho  reached  the 
friendly  woods  which  shielded  him  from  observation. 
How  he  hated  himself  hiding  there  among  the  trees,  and 
how  he  longed  for  the  downward  train,  which  came  at  last, 
and  when  the  village  bell  tolled  out  its  summons  to  the 


RIVERSIDE   COTTAaE.  77 

house  of  mourning,  he  sat  in  a  corner  of  the  car  returning 
to  New  York  even  faster  than  he  had  come. 


Gradually  the  Riverside  cottage  filled  with  people  as- 
'Sembling  to  pay  the  last  tribute  of  respect  to  the  deceased, 
who  duiiiig  her  short  stay  among  them  had  endeared  her- 
self to  many  hearts. 

Slowly,  sadly,  they  bore  her  to  the  grave.  Reverently 
they  laid  her  down  to  rest,  and  from  the  carriage  window 
Alice's  white  face  looked  wistfully  out  as  "  earth  to  earth, 
ashes  to  aslies,"  broke  the  solemn  stillness.  Oh,  how  she 
longed  to  lay  there  too,  beside  her  mother !  How  the  sun- 
shine, flecking  the  bright  June  grass  with  gleams  of  gold, 
seemed  to  mock  her  misery  as  the  gravelly  earth  rattled 
heavily  down  upon  the  coffin  lid,  and  she  knew  they  were 
covering  up  lier  mother.  "  If  I  too  could  die  ! "  she  mur- 
mured, sinking  back  in  the  carriage  corner  and  covering 
her  f:ice  with  her  veil.  But  not  so  easily  could  life  be  sha- 
ken off"  by  her,  the  young  and  strong.  She  must  live  yet 
longer.  She  had  a  work  to  do  —  a  work  whose  import 
she  knew  not ;  and  the  mother's  death,  for  which  she  then 
could  see  no  reason,  though  she  knew  well  that  one  exist- 
ed, was  the  entrance  to  that  w^ork.  She  must  live  and 
she  must  listen  wliile  Mr.  Listen  talked  to  her  that  night 
on  business,  arranging  about  the  letter,  which  was  forward- 
ed immediately  to  Kentucky,  and  advising  her  what  to  do 
until  an  answer  was  received, 

Not  a  word  did  he  say  of  his  interview  with  the  doctor, 
nor  did  Alice  know  he  had  been  there.  She  would  not 
have  cared  if  she  had,  so  crushed  and  desolate  wiiS  her 
young  heart,  and  after  Mr.  Listen  was  gone  and  the  house 
had  become  quiet  again,  a  species  of  apathy  settled  upon 
her  as  with  a  feeling  akin  to  despair  she  sat  down  to  wait 
for  the  news  ii'om  Kentucky,  which  was  to  decide  her  fu- 
ture course. 


.78  HUGH    WORTHINGTOir. 


CHAPTER    IX. 


MATTERS  rN^  KENTUCKY. 


Backward  now  with  our  reader  we  tarn,  and  take  up 
the  broken  thread  of  our  story  at  the  point  where  we  letl 
Adah  Hastings,  sleeping,  in  that  best  chamber  at  Spring 
Bank;  while  around  the  time  worn  building  the  winter  wind 
howled  dismally,  and  drove  the  sleet  in  gusts  against  the 
windows.  There  were  piles  of  snow  next  morning  upon 
the  steps,  huge  rifts  against  the  doors,  and  banks  against 
the  fences,  while  the  bent-up  negroes  shivered  and  drew 
back  from  the  cutting  blast,  so  foreign  to  their  tempera- 
ments. 

It  was  a  bitter  morning  in  which  to  face  the  fierce  north 
wind,  and  plow  one's  way  to  the  Derby  cornfield,  where 
in  a  small,  dilapidated  building.  Aunt.  Eunice  Reynolds, 
widowed  sister  of  John  Stanley,  had  lived  for  many  years, 
first  as  a  pensioner  upon  her  brothers  bounty,  and  next  as 
Hugh's  incumbent.  At  the  time  of  her  brother's  death 
Aunt  Eunice  had  intended  removing  to  Sj^ring  Bank,  but 
when  Hugh's  mother  w^rote,  asking  for  a  home,  she  aban- 
doned the  plan^  and  for  two  seasons  more  lived  alone, 
watching  from  her  lonely  door  the  tasselled  corn  ripening 
in  the  August  sun.  It  was  strange  that  a  house  should 
have  been  built  there  in  the  center  of  that  corn-field,  with 
roods  enclosing  it  on  every  side  save  one,  and  stranger 
itill,  that  Aunt  Eunice  should  care  to  stay  there,  year 
after  year,  as  she  did.  But  she  preferred  it,  she  said  "  to 
having  a  paltry,  lazy  nigger  under  foot,"  and  so  her  broth- 
er suffered  her  to  have  her  way,  while  the  neighbors  mar- 
velled at  and  admired  the  untiring  energy  and  careful 
neatness  which  made  the  cottage  in  the  corn  field  so  cozy- 


lkL\.TTERS    IN   KENTirCKY.  79 

ike  and  cheerful.  Hugh  was  Aunt  Eunice's  idol,  the 
object  which  kept  her  old  heart  warm  and  young  with 
human  love.  For  him  she  would  endure  any  want  or  en- 
counter any  difficulty,  and  in  his  dilemma  regarding  Adah 
Hastings,  he  intuitively  turned  to  her,  as  the  one  who 
would  lend  a  helping  hand.  He  had  not  been  to  see  her 
in  two  days,  and  when  the  gi*ey  December  morning  broke, 
and  he  looked  out  upon  the  deep,  untrodden  snow,  he 
frowned  impatiently,  as  he  thought  how  bad  the  path 
must  be  between  Spring  Bank  and  the  corn-field,  whither 
he  intended  going,  as  he  would  be  the  first  to  tell  what 
had  occurred.  'Lina's  fierce  opposition  to,  and  his  mother's 
apparent  shrinking  from  Adah,  had  convinced  him  how 
hopeless  was  the  idea  that  she  could  stay  at  Spring  Bank 
with  any  degree  of  comfort  to  herself  or  quiet  to  him. 
Aunt  Eunice's  house  was  the  only  refuge  for  Adah,  and 
there  she  would  be  comparatively  safe  from  censorious 
remarks. 

"  Inasmuch  as  ye  did  it  to  the  least  of  these  ye  did  it 
unto  me,"  kept  ringing  in  Hugh's  ears,  as  he  hastily  dress- 
ed himself,  striking  his  benumbed  fingers  together,  and 
trying  hard  to  keep  his  teeth  from  chattering,  for  Hugh 
was  beginning  his  work  of  economy,  and  when  at  day- 
light Claib  came  as  usual  to  build  his  master's  fire,  he  had 
sent  him  back,  saying  he  did  not  need  one,  and  bidding 
him  go,  instead,  to  Mrs.  Hastings'  chamber. 

It  took  more  than  a  shake  or  two  that  morning  ere 
Hugh's  toilet  was  completed,  for  the  stifi",  heavy  boots  re- 
fused at  first  to  go  on,  but  with  a  kick  and  a  jerk,  and 
what  would  have  been  an  oath  if  he  had  not  thought  of 
Golden  Hair  in  time  to  prevent  its  utterance,  Hugh  pre* 
vailed  at  last  and  the  refractory  boots  came  to  th(3ir  pro- 
per place.  Bounding  down  the  stairs  he  hurried  out  to  the 
kitchen,  where  only  a  few  of  his  negroes  were  stirring. 

"  Ho,  Claib !  "  he  called,  "  saddle  Rocket  quick  and  bring 
him  to  the  door.     I'm  going  to  the  corn  field." 


80  HUGH    WORTHIXGTON. 

"  Lor*  bless  you,  masV,  it's  done  snow  higher  than  Rock 
et's  head.     He'll  never  stand.it  noliow." 

"Do  as  I  bid  you,"  was  Hugh's  reply,  and  indolent 
Olaib  went  shivering  to  the  stable  where  Hugh's  best 
horses  were  kept. 

1  A  whinnying  sound  of  welcome  greeted  him  as  lie  3n« 
t({red,  but  was  soon  succeeded  by  a  spirited  snort  as  he  at- 
tempted to  lead  out  a  most  beautiful  dapple  gray,  Hugh's 
favorite  steed,  his  pet  of  pets,  and  the  horse  most  admired 
and  coveted  in  all  the  country. 

"None  of  yer  ars,"  Claib  said  coaxingly,  as  the  animal 
threw  up  his  neck  defiantly,  "  You've  got  to  get  along 
'case  Mas'r  Hugh  say  so.     You  know  Mas'r  Hugh." 

As  if  he  really  knew  and  understood,  the  proud  head 
came  down  at  once,  and  Rocket  suffered  himself  to  be  led 
from  the  stall,  but  when  the  keen  north  wind  struck  full 
upon  his  face,  the  gleaming  eyes  flashed  with  stubborn 
fire,  and  planting  his  feet  firmly  in  the  snow.  Rocket  re- 
sisted all  Claib's  efforts  to  get  him  any  further.  Scolding 
did  no  good,  coax  him  he  could  not,  strike  him  he  dared 
not,  and  alternately  changing  the  halter  from  hand  to  hand 
poor  Claib  blew  his  stiffened  fingers  and  called  lustily  for 
help. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  Hugh  asked,  coming  out  upon  the  stoop, 
and  comprehending  the  trouble  at  a  glance.  "Rocket 
Rocket,"  he  cried,  "  Easy,  my  boy,"  and  in  an  instant  Rock- 
et's defiant  attitude  changed  to  one  of  perfect  obedience. 

He  knew  and  loved  the  voice  calling  so  cheerily  to  him, 
and  with  a  sudden  plunge,  which  wrenched  his  halter  from 
■  Claib's  grasp  and  sent  the  poor  negro  headlong  into  the 
now,  he  bounded  to  his  master's  side.  Rubbing  his  head 
ngainst  Hugh's  shoulder,  he  suffered  himself  to  be  caress- 
ed for  a  moment,  and  then,  playful  as  a  kitten,  gambolled 
around  him  in  circles,  sometimes  making  a  feint  of  coming 
near  to  him,  and  again  leaping  backward  with  the  peculiar- 
ly graceful  motion  for  which  he  was  so  famous*     Uow 


MATTERS    IN    KENTUCKY.  81 

Hugh  loved  tliat  noble  animal,  and  how  Rocket  loved  nim, 
licking  his  hands  whenever  he  entered  the  stable,  and  cry- 
ing piteoiisly  after  him  when  he  left.  Five  hundred  dol- 
lars had  been  offered  hira  for  that  horse,  but  though  want- 
ing money  sadly,  he  liad  promptly  refused  the  offer,  de- 
termined that  Rocket  should  know  no  master  save  him- 
self. 

"  There,  ray  beauty,"  he  said,  as  the  animal  continued 
to  prance  around  him.  "  There,  you've  showed  off  enough. 
Come,  now,  I've  work  for  you  to  do." 

Docile  as  a  lamb  when  Hugh  commanded,  he  stood  quiet- 
ly while  Claib  equipped  him  for  his  morning's  task. 

"  Tell  mother  I  shan't  be  back  to  breakfast,"  Hugh  said, 
as  he  sprang  into  the  saddle,  and  giving  loose  rein  ta 
Rocket  went  galloping  through  the  snow. 

Under  ordinary  circumstances  that  early  ride  would  have 
been  vastly  exhilarating  to  Hugh,  who  enjoyed  the  bracing 
air,  but  there  was  too  much  now  upon  his  mind  to  admit 
of  his  enjoying  any  thing.  Thoughts  of  Adah,  and  the 
increased  expense  her  presence  would  necessarily  bring, 
flitted  across  his  mind,  while  Harney's  bill,  put  over  once, 
and  due  again  ere  long,  sat  like  a  nightmare  on  him,  for 
he  saw  no  way  in  which  to  meet  it.  No  way  save  one, 
and  Rocket  surely  must  have  felt  the  throbbing  of  Hugh's 
heart  as  that  one  way  flashed  npon  him,  for  he  gave  a 
kind  of  coaxing  whine,  and  dashed  on  over  the  billowy 
drifts  faster  than  before. 

"  No,  Rocket,  no,"  and  Hugh  patted  his  neck.  He'd 
noYcr  part  with  Rocket.  He'd  sell  Spring  Bank  first  with 
%ll  its  incumbrances. 

The  cornfield  was  reached  by  this  time,  and  with  a  single 
>ound  Rocket  cleared  the  gate  at  the  entrance.  A  six- 
lail  fence  was  nothing  for  him  to  leap,  and  like  a  deer  he 
sped  across  the  field,  and  ere  long  stood  before  Aunt  Eu- 
nice's door.  It  was  now  three  days  since  Hugh  had  glad- 
dened Aunt  Eunice's  cottage  with  the  sunshine  of  his 


82  HUGH    WORTHINGTON. 

presence,  anvl  wlion  she  awoke  that  morning,  apd  saw 
how  higli  tlie  snow  was  piled  around  her  door,  she  said  to 
herself,  "The  boy'U  be  here  directly  to  know  if  I'm 
alive,"  and  this  accounted  for  the  round  deal  table  drawn, 
before  the  blazing  fire,  and  looking  so  inviting  with  its 
two  plates  and  cups,  one  a  fanciful  china  affiiir,  sacredly 
kept  for  Hugh,  whose  coffee  always  tasted  better  when 
flipped  from  its  gilded  side.  The  lightest  of  eg^  bread  wa% 
steaming  on  the  hearth,  the  tenderest  of  steak  was  broil- 
ing on  the  griddle,  while  the  odor  of  the  coffee  boiling  on 
the  coals  came  tantalizingly  to  Hugh's  olfactories  as  Aunt 
Eunice  opened  the  door,  saying  ])leasantly, 

"  I  told  'em  so.  I  felt  it  in  my  bones,  and  the  breakfast 
is  all  but  ready.  Put  Rocket  up  directly,  and  come  in  to 
the  fire." 

Fastening  Rocket  in  his  accustomed  place  in  the  outer 
shed,  Hugh  stamped  the  snow  from  his  heavy  boots,  and 
then  went  in  to  Aunt  Eunice's  kitchen-parlor,  as  she  call- 
ed it,  where  the  tempting  breakfist  stood  upon  the  table. 
Nimble  as  a  girl  Aunt  Eunice  brought  his  chair,  and 
placing  it  in  the  warmest  part  of  the  room,  the  one  next 
to  the  wall  and  firtherest  from  the  door  where  the  wind 
and  snow  crept  in.  But  Hugh  was  not  selfish  enough  to 
keep  it,  and  he  made  Aunt  Eunice  change,  for  he  knew 
the  blood  moved  more  slowly  through  her  veins  than  his. 

"  No  coffee !  What  new  freak  is  that  ?"  and  Aunt  Eu- 
nice gazed  at  him  in  astonishment  as  he  declined  the  cup 
she  had  prepared  with  so  much  care,  dropping  in  the 
whitest  lumps  of  sugar,  and  stirring  in  the  thickest  cream. 

It  cost  Hugh  a  terrible  struggle  to  refuse  that  cup  of 
coffee,  but  if  he  would  retrench,  he  must  begin  at  once, 
and  determining  to  meet  it  unfiinchingly  he  replied  that 
"he  had  concluded  to  diink  water  for  a  while,  and  see 
what  that  would  do;  much  was  said  nowadays  about 
coffee's  being  injurious,  and  he  presumed  it  was." 

In  great  distress  the  good  old  lady  asked  if  "his  dys 


MATTERS    IN    KEXTUOKY.  83 

peptic  was  out  of  order,"  still  insisting  that  he  should  take 
the  cup,  whose  delicious  odor  well  nigh  overcame  resolu- 
tion. But  Hugh  was  firm  as  a  granite  rock  when  once 
his  mind  was  settled,  and  assuring  Aunt  Eunice  that  his 
**  dyspeptic "  was  right,  he  betook  himself  to  the  gourd, 
standing  in  the  pail  of  water  within  his  reach.  Poor 
Aunt  Eunice  did  not  half  enjoy  her  breakfast,  and  sho^ 
would  not  have  enjoyed  it  at  all  had  she  known  that 
Hugh  was  abstaining  from  what  he  loved  so  much  only 
that  she  and  others  might  be  fed  and  wanned. 

"  There's  something  on  your  mind,"  she  said,  obserring 
his  abstraction.  "  Have  you  had  another  dunning  letter, 
or  what  ?  " 

Aunt  Eunice  had  made  a  commencement,  and  in  his 
usual  impulsive  way  Hugh  told  the  story  of  Adah  and 
then  asked  if  she  would  take  her. 

"But,  Plugh,"  and  Aunt  Eunice  spoke  earnestly,  "you 
cannot  afford  the  expense.  Think  twice  before  you  com- 
mit yourself." 

"I  haA'e  thought  twice,  the  last  time  just  as  I  did  the 
first.  Adah  shall  stay.  You  need  some  one  these  winter 
nights.  There's  the  room  you  call  mine.  Give  her  that. 
Will  you.  Aunt  Eunice  ? "  and  Hugh  wound  his  arm 
around  Aunt  Eunice's  ample  waist,  while  he  pleaded  for 
Adah  Hastings. 

Aunt  Eunice  was  soon  won  over  as  Hugh  knew  she 
would  be,  and  it  was  settled  that  she  should  come  that 
very  day  if  possible. 

"  Look,  the  sky  is  clearing,"  and  he  pointed  to  the  sun- 
si  ine  streaming  through  the  window. 

"  We'll  have  her  room  fixed  "before  I  go,"  and  with  his 
?.wn  hands  Hugh  split  and  prepared  the  wood  which  wa 
to  kindle  Adah's  fire,  then  with  Auut  Eunice's  help  sundry 
changes  were  made  in  the  aiTangement  of  the  rather  mea- 
gre fui-niture,  which  never  seemed  so  meagre  to  Hugh  aa 
when  he  lookcl  at,  it  with  Adah's  eyes  and  wondered  how 
she'd  like  it. 


84  HUGH    WORTHIXGTON. 

"  Oh,  I  wish  I  were  rich,"  he  sighed  mentally,  and  ta- 
king  out  his  well-worn  purse  he  carefully  counted  "its  con- 
tents. 

Twenty-five  dollars.  That  was  all,  and  this  he  had  be^^n 
so  long  in  saving  for  the  new  coat  he  meant  to  bu^ .  Hugh 
would  like  to  dress  better  if  he  could,  and  was  even  an- 
ticipating his  sister's  surprise  when  he  should  api>ear 
before  her  some  day  habited  in  a  coat  of  the  latest  style. 
To  do  this  Adah's  room  must  go  unfurnished  yet  awhile 
and  with  another  sigh  the  purse  was  returned  to  his  pock- 
et, just  as  Aunt  Eunice,  who  had  stepped  out  for  a  mo- 
ment, reappeared,  bringing  a  counterpane  and  towel,  one 
of  which  was  spread  upon  the  bed,  while  the  other  cover- 
ed the  old  pine  stand,  marred  and  stained  with  ink  and 
tallow,  the  result  of  Hugh's  own  carelessness. 

"  What  aheap  of  difference  that  table  cloth  and  pocket- 
handkerchief  do  make,"  was  Hugh's  man-like  remark,  his 
face  brightening  with  the  improved  appearance  of  things* 
and  his  big  heart  growing  warm  with  the  thought  that  he 
might  keep  his  twenty-five  dollars  and  Adah  be  comforta- 
ble still. 

With  a  merry  laugh  Aunt  Eunice  explained  that  the 
tahle-doth  was  a  bed-spread^  and  the  handkerchief  a  towel. 
It  was  all  the  same  to  Hugh  so  long  as  they  improved  the 
room,  and  glancing  at  his  watch,  he  said  it  was  time  to  be 
gone. 

"  Ad  may  pick  Adah's  eyes  out  before  I  get  home,"  wa8 
his  laughing  remark  as  he  vaulted  into  his  saddle  and 
dashed  off  across  the  fields,  where,  beneath  the  warm 
Kentucky  sun,  tlie  snow  was  already  beginning  to  soften, 

IJreakfast  had  been  late  at  Spring  Bank  that  morning^ 
for  the  strangers  had  required  some  care,  and  Miss  Lina 
was  sipping  her  coffee  rather  ill-naturedly  when  a  note 
was  handed  her,  and  instantly  her  mood  was  changed. 

"  Splendid,  mother! "  she  exclaimed,  glancing  at  the  tiny, 
three-cornered  thing;  "  an  invitation  to  Ellen  Tifflon'a 


MATTERS    IN   KENTUCKY.  85 

party.  I  was  afraid  she  would  leave  me  out  after  Hugh's 
refusal  to  attend  the  Ladies'  fair,  or  buy  a  ticket  for  her  lot 
tery.  It  was  only  ten  dollars  either,  and  Mr.  Harney 
spent  all  of  forty,  I'm  sure,  in  the  course  of  the  evening. 

"Hugh  had  no  ten  dollars  to  spare,"- Mrs.  Worthing- 
Icn  said,  apologetically,  "though,  of  course,  he  might 
fc.'ive  been  more  civil  than  to  tell  Ellen  it  was  a  regular 
svA  indie,  and  the  getters-up  ought  to  be  indicted.  I  al- 
most wonder  at  her  inviting  him,  as  she  said  she'd  never 
speak  to  him  again." 

« Invited  him !  Who  said  slie  had  ?  It's  only  one  card 
forme,"  and  with  a  most  satisfied  expression 'Lina  pre- 
sented the  note  to  her  mother,  whose  face  flushed  at  the 
insult  offered  her  son  —  an  insult  which  even 'Lina  felt, 
but  would  not  acknowledge,  lest  it  should  interfere  with  , 
her  going.  "  There  may  be  some  mistake,"  she  suggested. 
"  Lulu  may  have  dropped  his,"  and  ringing  the  bell  she 
summoned  to  their  presence  a  bright,  handsome  mulatto 
girl,  who  answered  frankly  that 

"  Only  one  invite  was  given  her,  and,  and  that  for  Miss 
'Lina.  I  asked  Jake,"  she  said,  "where  was  Master 
Hugh's,  and  he  said,  '  Oh.  Miss  Ellen's  ravin'  at  him ; 
called  him  no  gentleman ;  and  Avouldn't  invite  him  any 
way.'  I  think  it's  right  mean  in  her,  for  Master  Hugh  is 
enough  sight  better  gentleman  than  Bob  Harney,  that 
fihe's  after.  I  told  Jake  to  tell  her  so,"  and  having  thus 
vmdicated  her  master's  cause.  Lulu  tripped  back  to  the 
kitchen,  leaving  her  mistress  and  'Lina  to  finish  their 
party  discussion. 

^     "You    won't   go,  of  course,"   Mrs.  Worthington    said, 
.■quietly.     "  You'll  resent  her  slighting  Hugh." 

« Indeed  I  shan't,"  the  young  lady  retorted.  "  I  hardly 
think  it  fair  in  Ellen,  but  I  shall  accept,  and  I  must  go  to 
town  to-day  to  see  about  having  my  pink  silk  fixed.  I 
thhik  I'll  have  some  black  lace  ffestooned  round  the  skirt. 
How  I  wish  I  could  have  a  new  one.  Do  you  suppose 
Husfh  has  any  money?" 


Ob  HUGH    WORTHIXGTOX. 

"None  for  new  dresses  or  lace  flounces  either,"  Mrs. 
Worthington  replied.  "I  fancy  he  begins  to  look  old  and 
worn  with  this  perpetual  call  for  money  from  us.  We 
must  economize." 

"  Never  mind,  when  I  get  Bob  TIarney  I'll  pay  off  old 
scores,"  'Lina  said,  laughingly,  a«  she  arose  from  the  table 
tnd  went  to  look  over  her  wardrobe,  having  first  investi 
gated  the  weather,  and  ascertained,  from  a  consultation 
with  Cc-esar,  that  the  roatls  would  undoubtedly  be  passable 
by  noon. 

Meantime  Hugh  had  returned,  meeting  in  the  kitchen 
with  Lulu,  who  worshippmg  her  young  master  with  a 
species  of  adoration,  resented  any  insults  offered  him  far 
more  keenly  than  his  own  sister  did. 

'     "Well,  Lu,  what  is   it?     What's   happened?"   Hugh 
asked,  as  he  saw  she  was  full  of  some  important  matter. 

In  an  instant  the  impetuous  Lulu  told  him  of  the  party 
to  which  he  was  not  invited,  together  with  the  reason 
why,  and  the  word  she  had  sent  back. 

"I'll  give  'em  apiece  of  my  mind  !  "  she  said,  as  she  saw 
Hugh  change  color.  "  She  may  have  old  Harney.  He's 
jes  good  enough  for  her !  The  hateful !  His  man  John, 
told  Claib  how  his  master  said  he  meant  to  get  me  and 
Rocket,  too,  some  day;  me  for  her  waiting-maid,  I  reckon." 
You  won't  soil  me,  Master  Hugh,  will  you  ?  "  and  Lulu's 
eyes  looked  pleadingly  up  to  Hugh. 

"  Xever  I  "  and  Hugh's  riding  whip  came  down  upon 
the  table  with  a  force  which  made  Lulu  start. 

Satisfied  that  she  was  safe  from  Ellen  Tifilon's  whims. 
Lulu  darted  away,  while  Hugh  entered  the  sitting-room j 
where  'Lina  sat,  surrounded  by  her  party  finery,  and  pre- 
pared tc  do  the  amiable  to  the  utmost. 

"  That  really  is  a  handsome  little  boy  upstairs,"  she  said, 
as  if  she  supposed  it  were  her  mother  who  came  in  ;  then 
an  affected  start  she  added,  "  Oh,  it's  you!  I  thought 
'twas  mother.  Don't  you  think,  Ellen  has  not  invited  yc  u 
Moan,  isn't  it  ?  " 


MATTERS    IN    KENTUCKY.  87 

*^  Ellen  can  do  as  she  likes,"  Hugh  replied,  adding,  as  he 
guessed  the  meaning  of  all  that  linery,  "You  surely  are 
not  going  ?  " 
•     "Why  not?"  and  'Linn's  black  eyes  flashed  full  upon 

him. 

"I  thought  perhaps  you  would  decline  for  my  sakt;'  h  ^ 

replied. 

An  angr}  retort  trembled  on  'Lina's  lip,  but  she  had  an 
object  to  attain,  so  she  restrained  herself  and  answered 
that  "  she  had  thought  of  it,  but  such  a  course  would  do 
no  good,  and  she  wanted  to  go  so  much,  the  Tiiftons  were 
so  exclusive  and  aristocratic." 

Hugh  whistled  contemptuously,  but  'Lina  kept  her  tem- 
per, and  continued,  coaxingly, 

«  Everybody  is  to  be  there,  and  you'd  like  to  have  your 
sister  look  decent,  I  know ;  and  really,  Hugh,I  can't  unlesa 
you  give   me  a   little    money.     Do,   Hugh,  be    good  for 

once."  ^ 

«  Ad,  I  can't,''  and  Hugh  spoke  sorrowfully,  for  a  kind 
word  from  'Lina  always  tmiched  his  weaker  side.  «I 
would  if  I  could,  but  honestly  I've  only  twenty-five  dollars 
in  the  world,  and  I've  thought  of  a  new  coat.  1  don't  like 
to  look  so  shabby.  It  hurts  me  worse  th^n  it  docs  you," 
and  Hugh's  voice  trembled  as  he  spoke. 

Any  i3ut  a  heart  of  stone  would  have  yielded,  but,  Lina 
was  too  supremely  selfish.  Hugh  had  twenty-five  dollars. 
He  might  give  her  half,  or  even  ten.  She'd  be  satisfied 
with  t^n.  He  could  soon  make  that  up.  The  negro  hire 
came  due  ere  long.     He  must  have  forgotten  that. 

No,  he  had  not ;  but  with  the  negro  hire  came  debts, 
thoughts  of  which  gave  him  the  old  worn  look  his  moth 
er  had  observed.  Only  ten  dollars  !  It  did  seem  hard  to 
refuse,  and  if  'Lina  went,  Hugh  wished  her  to  look  well, 
for  underneath  his  apparent  harshness  lurked  a  kind  of 
pride  in  his  sister,  whose  beauty  was  of  the  bold,  dashing 
style. 


88  HUGH    WORTHINGTON. 

"Take  them,"  lie  said  at  last  counting  out  the  ten  with 
regretful  sigh.  "  Make  them  go  as  far  as  you  can,  and  Ad, 
remember  don't  get  into  debt." 

"I won't,"  and  with  a  civil  "Thank  you," 'Lina  rolled 
up  her  bills,  while  Hugh  repaired  to  Adah's  room  telling 
her  of  Aunt  Eunice,  and  his  plan  of  taking  her  there. 

With  a  burst  of  tears,  Adah  listened  to  him,  and  then 
insisted  wpon  going  away,  as  she  had  done  the  previous 
night.  She  had  no  claim  on  him,  and  she  could  not  be  a 
burden. 

"You,  madam, think  it  best,  I'm  sure,"  she  said,  appeal- 
ing to  Mrs.  Woithington,  who  was  present  and  who  an- 
swered promptly, 

"  I  do  not.  I  am  willing  you  should  remain  until  your 
friends  are  found." 

Adah  offered  no  further  remonstrance,  but  turning  to 
Hugh,  said  hesitatingly, 

"  I  may  hear  from  my  advertisement.  Do  you  take  the 
Herald  r'       " 

"  Yes,  though  I  can't  say  I  think  much  of  it,"  Hugh  re- 
plied, and  Adah  continued, 

"  Then  if  you  ever  find  anything  for  me,  you'll  tell  me, 
and  I  can  go  away.  I  said, 'Direct  to  Adah  Hastings. 
Somebody  will  be  sure  to  see  it.  Maybe  George^  and 
then  he'll  know  of  Willie." 

With  a  muttered  invective  against  the  "  villain,"  Hugh 
left  the  room  to  see  that  the  carriage  was  ready,  while  hia 
mother,  following  him  into  the  hall,  offered  to  go  herself 
with  Adah  if  he  liked.  Glad  to  be  relieved,  as  he  had 
ilbusiness  that  afternoon  in  Versailles,  and  was  anxious  to 
et  off  as  soon  as  possible,  Hugh  accepted  at  once,  and 
lalf  an  hour  later,  the  Spring  Bank  carnage,  containing 
Mrs.  Worthington,  Adah  and  Willie,  drove  slowly  from 
the  door,  '  Lina  calling  after  her  mother  to  send  Caesar 
back  immediately,  as  she  was  going  to  Frankfort  after  din- 
ner, and  wanted  the  carriage  herself. 


'lika's  pukcuase  and  Hugh's.  89 

CHAPTER   X. 
'  lira's  purchase  and  Hugh's 

There  were  piles  of  handsome  dress  goods  upon  the 
counter  at  Harney^s  that  afternoon,  and  Harney  was  anx- 
ious to  sell.  It  was  not  often  that  he  favored  a  customer 
with  his  own  personal  services,  and  '  Lina  felt  proportiona 
bly  flattered  when  he  came  forward  and  asked  what  he 
coiild  show  her.  "Of  course,  a  dress  for  the  party —  he 
had  sold  at  least  a  dozen  that  day,  but  fortunately  he  still 
had  the  most  elegant  pattern  of  all,  and  he  knew  it  ^ould 
exactly  suit  her  complexion  and  style.  There  would  be 
nothing  like  it  at  the  party,  unless  she  wore  it,  as  he 
hoped  she  would,  for  he  knew  how  admirably  she  would 
become  it,  and  he'd  had  her  in  his  mind  all  the  time. 
'  Lina  was  easily  flattered,  while  the  silk  was  beautiful, 
and  as  she  thought  how  well  the  soft  tinted  rose  with  its 
single  white  velvety  leaf,  standing  out  so  full  and  rich, 
would  become  her  dark  hair  and  eyes,  an  intense  desire 
came  over  her  to  possess  it.  But  ten  dollars  was  all  she 
had,  and  turning  away  from  the  tempting  silk  she  an- 
swered faintly,  that  "it  was  superb,  but  she  could  not 
aflbrd  it,  besides,  she  had  not  the  money  to-day." 

"  Not  the  slightest  consequence,"  was  Harney's  quick 
rej  jinder,  as  he  thought  of  Hugh's  already  heavy  bill,  and 
'alas,  thought  of  Rocket  too!  "Not  the  slightest  conse- 
quence. Your  brother's  credit  is  good,  and  I'm  sure  he'll 
be  proud  to  see  you  in  it.     I  should,  were  I  your  brother." 

'Lina  blushed,  while  the  wish  to  possess  the  silk  grew 
every  moment  stronger. 

"  If  it  were  only  fifty  dollars^  it  would  not  seem  so  bad," 
■he  thought.     Hugh  could  manage  it  some  way,  and  Mr. 


90  HUGH   WORTHINGTON. 

Ilarney  was  so  good  natured ;  he  could  wait  a  year,  she 
knew.  But  the  making  would  cost  ten  dollars  more,  for 
that  was  the  price  Miss  Allis  charged,  to  say  nothing  of 
the  trimmings.  "  No,  I  can't,"  she  said,  quite  decidedly  at 
last,  asking  for  the  lace  with  which  she  at  first  intended 
renovating  her  old  pink  silk.  "She  must  see  Miss  Allis 
first  to  know  how  much  she  wanted,"  and  she  tripped  OAer 
to  Frankfort's  fashionable  dressmaker,  whom  she  found 
surrounded  with  dresses  for  the  party. 

Such  an  array  and  such  "elegance  too  ;  tlie  old  pink  fad- 
ed into  nothing.  She  should  be  quite  in  the  shade,  and 
feeling  much  like  crying,  'Lina  sat  watcliing  the  nimble 
fingers  around  her,  and  waiting  for  Miss  Allis'  advice,  when 
a  new  idea  crossed  her  mind.  She  heard  Adah  say  that 
morning  when  she  was  in  her  room,  that  she  could  sew 
neatly,  that  she  always  made  her  own  dresses,  and  if  hers, 
why  not  'Liua's  I  She  certainly  looked  as  if  she  might 
have  good  taste,  and  she  ought  to  do  something  by  way 
of  remuneration ;  besides  that,  if  Adah  made  it,  she  could, 
fi'om  her  mother's  budgets  pick  up  enough  for  linings, 
whereas  nothing  but  new  entire  would  answer  the  purpose 
of  a  fashionable  artiste,  like  Miss  Diana  Allis.  'Lina  was 
fast  persuading  herself  to  buy  the  coveted  silk,  and  as 
some  time  would  elapse  ere  Miss  Allis  could  attend  to  her 
she  went  back  to  Harney's  just  for  one  more  look  at  the 
lovely  fabric.  It  was,  if  possible,  more  beautiful  than  be- 
fore, and  Harney  was  more  polite,  while  the  result  of  th^ 
whole  was  that,  when  'Lina  at  four  o'clock  that  afternoon 
entered  her  carriage  to  go  home,  the  despised  pink  silk, 
still  unpaid  on  Harney's  books,  was  thrown  down  any 
where,  while  in  her  hands  she  carefully  held  the  bundle. 
Harney  brought  himself,  complimenting  her  upon  the 
sensation  she  was  sure  to  create,  and  inviting  her  to  dance 
the  first  set  Avith  him.  Then  with  a  smiling  bow  he  closed 
the  door  upon  her,  and  returning  to  his  books  wrote 
down  Hugh  Worthmgton  his  debtor  to  fifty  dollars  more. 


'uifA's    PUKCHASE    A^TD    HUGh's,  91 

"  That  makes  three  hundred  and  fifty,"  he  said  to  him- 
self. "  I  know  he  can't  raise  that  amount  of  ready  mon- 
8}',  and  as  he  is  too  infernal  proud  to  be  sued,  I'm  sure  of 
liocket  or  Lulu,  it  matters  but  little  which,"  and  with  a 
look  upon  his  face  which  made  it  positively  hideous,  the 
Bcheming  Harney  closed  his  books,  and  sat  down  to  calcu 
iate  the  best  means  of  managing  the  rather  unmanageable 
Hugh  ! 

It  was  dark  when  'Lina  reached  home,  but  the  silk  look- 
ed well  by  fire-light,  and  'Lina  would  have  been  quite 
happy  but  for  her  mother's  reproaches  and  an  occasional 
twinge  as  she  thought  of  Hugh  who  had  not  yet  returned, 
and  whose  purchase  that  afternoon  was  widely  different 
from  her  own. 

It  was  the  day  when  a  number  of  negroes,  whose  mas- 
ter had  failed  to  a  large  amount,  were  to  be  sold  in  the 
Court  House,  and  Hugh,  as  he  reined  up  a  moment  before 
it,  saw  them  grouped  together  upon  the  steps.  He  had 
no  fancy  for  such  scenes,  but  the  eager,  wistful  glances 
the  wretched  creatures  cast  upon  the  passers  by  awoke 
his  sympathy,  and  after  finishing  his  business  he  returned 
to  the  Court  House  just  as  the  auctioneer  was  detailing  the 
many  virtues  of  the  bright-looking  lad  first  upon  the 
block.  There  was  no  trouble  in  disposing  of  them  all, 
save  a  whi':e-haired  old  man,  whom  they  called  Uncle 
Sara,  and  who  was  rather  fiimous  for  having  been  stolen 
from  his  late  master  and  sold  into  Virginia,  With  totter- 
ing steps  the  old  man  took  his  place,  while  his  dim  eyes 
wandered  over  the  faces  congregated  around  him  as  if  seek- 
ing for  their  owner.  But  none  was  found  who  cared  for^ 
lTii':le  Sam.  He  was  too  old  —  his  work  was  done,  and 
like  a  worn  out  horse  he  must  be  turned  off*  to  die. 

"Won't  nobody  bid  for  Sam?  I  fotched  a  thousan 
dollars  onct,"  and  the  feeble  voice  trembled  as  it  asked 
this  question. 

"  What  will  become  of  him  if  he  is  not  sold  ?  "     Hugh 


92  HUGH    WORTHINGTON". 

asked  of  a  bystander,  who  replied,  "  Go  back  to  the  old 
place  to  be  kicked  and  cuffed  by  the  minions  of  the  new 
proprietor,  Harney,     You  know  Harney,  of  Frankfort  ?  " 

Yes,  Hugh  did  know  Harney  as  one  who  was  constant- 
.y  adding  to  his  already  large  possessions  houses  and  lnnd§ 
and  negroes  without  limit,  caring  little  that  they  came  to 
liim  laden  with  the  widow's  curse  and  the  orphan's  tears. 
The  law  was  en  his  side.  He  did  nothing  illegally,  and  so 
there  was  no  redress.  This  was  Harney,  and  Hugh  al- 
ways felt  exasperated  when  he  thought  of  him.  Advanc- 
ing a  step  or  two  he  came  nearer  to  the  negro,  who 
took  comfort  at  once  from  the  expression  of  his  face,  and 
stretching  out  his  shaking  hand  he  said  beseechingly, 

"  You,  mas'r,  you  buy  old  Sam  'case  it  'ill  be  lonesome 
and  cold  in  de  cabin  at  home  when  they  all  is  gone.  Please 
mas'r,"  and  the  tone  was  so  pleading,  that  Hugh  felt  a 
great  throb  of  pity  for  the  desolate,  forsaken  negro. 

"  How  old  are  you  ?  "  he  asked,  taking  the  quivering 
hand  still  extended  toward  him. 

"Bless  you,  mas'r,  longer  than  I  can  'member.  They 
was  alius  puttin'  me  back  and  back  to  make  me  young, 
till  I  couldn't  go  backuds  no  more,  so  I  spec's  I's  mighty 
nigh  a  thousan',"  was  the  negro's  reply,  whereupon  cheers 
for  Uncle  Sam  resounded  long  and  loud  among  the 
amused  spectators. 

"  What  can  you  do  ? "  was  Hugh's  next  query,  to 
which  the  truthful  negro  answered, 

"Nothin'  much,  or,  yes,"  and  an  expression  of  reverence 
and  awe  stole  over  the  wrinkled  face,  as  in  a  low  tone  he 
^  added,  "  I  can  pray  for  young  mas'r,  and  I  will,  only  buy 
me,  please." 

Hugh  had  not  much  fiith  in  praying  negroes,  but  some- 
thing in  old  Sam  struck  him  as  sincere.  His  prayei*8 
might  do  good,  and  he  needed  somebody's,  sadly.  But 
what  should  he  offer,  when  fifteen  dollars  was  all  he  had 
in  the  world,  and  was  it  his  duty  to  encumber  himself 


with  a  piece  of  useless  property?  Visions  of  the  Golden 
Haired  and  Adah  both  rose  up  before  him.  They  would 
say  it  was  right.  They  would  tell  him  to  buy  old  Sam, 
and  that  settled  the  point. 

"  Five  dollars,"  he  called  out,  and  Sam's  "  God  bless 
you,'''  was  sounding  in  his  ears,  when  a  voice  from  another 
part  of  the  building  doubled  the  bid,  and  with  a  moan 
Uncle  Sam  turned  imploringly  toward  Hugh. 

"A  leetle  more,  mas'r,  an'  you  fetches  'em;  a  leetle 
more."  he  whispered,  coaxingly,  and  Hugh  faltered  out 
"Twelve." 

"  Thirteen,"  came  from  the  corner,  and  Hugh  caught 
sight  of  the  bidder,  a  sour-grained  fellow,  whose  wife  had 
ten  young  children,  and  so  could  find  use  for  Sam. 

"  Tliirteen  and  a  half,"  cried  Hugh. 

"  Fourteen,"  responded  his  opponent. 

"  Leetle  more,  mas'r,  berry  leetle,"  whispered  Uncle 
Sam. 

"  Fourteen  and  a  quarter,"  said  Hugh,  the  perspiration 
starting  out  about  tlis  lips,  as  he  thought  how  fast  his  pile 
was  diminishing,  and  that  he  could  not  go  beyond  it. 

"Fourteen  and  a  half,"  from  the  corner. 

"  Leetle  more,  mas'r,"  from  Uncle  Sam. 

"  Fourteen,  seventy-five,"  from  Hugh. 

"  Fifteen,"  from  the  man  in  the  corner,  and  Hugh 
groaned  aloud, 

"  That's  every  dime  I've  got." 

Qiick  as  thought  an  acquaintance  beside  him  slipped 
a  bill  into  his  hand,  whispering  as  he  did  so, 

"  It's  a  y.  I'll  double  it  if  necessary.  I'm  sorry  for 
11 .0  darky." 

It  was  very  exciting  now,  each  bidder  raising  a  quarter 
ench  time,  while  Sam's  "a  leetle  more,  mas'r,"  and  the  vo- 
ciferous cheers  of  the  croud,  whenever  Hugh's  voice  was 
heard,  showed  him  to  be  the  popular  party. 

"Nineteen,  seventy-five,"  from  the  corner,  and  Hugh 
felt  his  courage  giving  way  as  he  faintly  called  out, 


94  HUGH    WORTIIINGTON. 

"  Twenty." 

Only  an  instant  did  tlie  auctioneer  wait,  and  then  liis 
decisive,  "  Gone  !  "  made  Hugh  tlie  owner  of  Uncle  Sam, 
who  crouching  down  before  him,  blessed  him  with  teara 
and  prayers. 

*'  I  knows  you're  good,"  he  said ;  "  I  knows  it  by  yei 
f  ice  ;  and  mebby,  when  the  rheumatics  gits  out  of  my  ole 
legs  I  kin  work  for  mas'r  aheap.  Does  you. live  fur  from 
here?" 

"Three  miles  or  more,"  Hugh  replied,  bidding  the  negro 
follow  him. 

The  snow  was  melting,  but  out  upon  the  turnpike  it  was 
still  so  deep  that  Hugh  had  many  misgivings  as  to  the  old 
man's  ability  to  walk,  but  Sam,  intent  on  proving  that  he 
was  smarter  than  he  seemed,  declared  himself  peifectly 
competent  to  go  with  "Mars'r  "  to  the  world's  end,  if  ne- 
cessary. 

"It's  mighty  cold,  though,"  he  said,  as  he  emerged  into 
the  open  air,  and  the  chilly  wind  penetrated  the  thin  rags 
which  covered  him.  "  It's  mighty  cokl,  and  my  knees  is 
all  a  shakin',  but  I'll  git  over  it  bimeby." 

It  was  not  in  Hugh's  nature  to  see  the  old  man  shiver 
BO,  and  taking  off  his  own  thick  shawl  he  wrapped  it  round 
the  negro's  shoulders,  saying  to  the  bystanders, 

"  My  blood  is  warmer  than  his." 

Another  cheer  from  the  crowd,  another,  "  God  bless  you, 
mas'r,"  and  the  strange  pair  started  on  their  homeward 
tour,  Hugh  riding  very  slowly,  and  accommodating  Rock- 
et's steps  to  the  bubbling  old  man,  who  wheezed  and  puff- 
^  'd,  and  sweat  with  the  wondrous  efforts  he  made,  and  at 
ast  when  only  a  mile  was  gone,  gave  out  entirely,  and 
itched  headlong  into  the  snow. 

"  It's  my  dumb  knees.  They  alius  was  crooked  and  s'la- 
ky,"  he  gasped,  becoming  more  and  more  entangled  in  the 
shawl,  which  he  was  not  accustomed  to  wearing. 

"Look  here,  Sam,"  and  Hugh  laughed  heartily  at  the 


'lina's  and  Hugh's  puechase.  95 

negro's  forlorn  appearance,  as,  regaining  his  feet,  he  assum- 
ed a  most  deprecating  attitude,  asking  pardon  for  tumbling 
down,  and  charging  it  all  to  his  shaky  knees.  "  Look 
here,  there's  no  other  way,  except  for  you  to  ride  and  me 
to  walk.  Rocket  won't  carry  double,"  and  ere  Sam  could 
remonstrate,  Hugh  had  dismounted  and  placed  hira  in  the 
saddle. 

Rocket  did  not  fancy  the  exchange,  as  was  manifest  bj 
an  indignant  snort,  and  an  attempt  to  shake  Sam  off,  but 
a  word  from  Hugh  quieted  him,  and  the  latter  offered  the 
reins  to  Sam,  who  was  never  a  skillful  horseman,  and  felt 
a  mortal  terror  of  the  high-mettled  steed  beneath  him. 
With  a  most  frightened  expression  upon  his  face,  he  grasp 
ed  the  saddle  j^ommel  with  both  hands,  and  bending  near- 
ly double,  gasped  out, 

"  Sam  ain't  much  use't  to  gemman's  horses.  Kind  of 
hold  me  on,  masV,  till  I  gits  de  hang  of  de  critter.  He 
hists  me  round  mightily." 

So,  leading  Rocket  with  one  hand,  and  steadying  Sara 
with  the  other,  Hugh  got  on  but  slowly,  and  'Lina  had 
looked  for  him  many  times  ere  she  spied  him  from  the 
window  as  he  came  up  the  lawn. 

"  In  the  name  of  wonder,  what  is  that  on  Rocket ! "  she 
exclaimed,  as  she  caught  sight  of  Sam,  whose  rags  were 
fluttering  in  the  wind.  "An  old  white-headed  nigger,  as  I 
live !  "  and  she  hastened  to  the  door,  where  the  servants 
were  assembling,  all  curious  like  hei-self  to  see  the  new  ar. 
rival. 

Vovy  carefully  Hugh  assisted  him  to  dismount,  but 
Sam's  knees,  cramped  up  so  long  on  Rocket,  refused  to 
fLraighten  at  once,  and  Lulu  was  not  far  out  of  the  way 
AhvAi  she  likened  him  to  a  toad,  while  her  mischievous 
Brother  Jim  called  out, 

**  How  d'j  e,  old  bow  legs  ?  " 

*'  Jest  tol'able,  thankee,"  was  Sam's  meek  reply,  then 
laying  'Lina  he  lifted  his  hat  politely,  bowing  so  low  that 


96  HUGH    WORTHINGTOX. 

his  knees  gave  out  again,  and  he  would  have  fallen  had 
not  Hugh  held  him  up. 

"  Who  is  he,  and  what  did  you  get  him  for  ?  Mrs. 
Worthington  asked,  as  Hugh  led  him  into  the  dining 
room . 

Briefly  Hugh  explained  to  her  why  he  had  bought  the 
negro. 

**  It  was  foolish,  I  suppose,  but  I'm  not  sorry  yet,"  he 
added,  glancing  toward  the  corner,  where  the  poor  old 
man  was  sitting,  warming  his  shriveled  hands  by  the 
cheerful  fire,  and  muttering  to  himself  blessings  on 
"  young  mas'r." 

Supper  had  been  delayed  for  Hugh,  and  as  he  took  his 
seat  at  the  table,  he  inquired  after  Adah. 

"  Pretty  well  when  I  left,"  said  his  mother,  adding  that 
Lulu  had  been  there  since,  and  reported  her  as  looking 
pale  and  worn,  while  Aunt  Eunice  seemed  worried  with 
Willie,  who  was  inclined  to  be  fretful. 

"  They  need  some  one,"  Hugh  said.  Can't  you  spare 
Lulu  ?  " 

Mrs.  Worthington  did  not  know,  but  'Lina,  to  whom 
Lulu  was  a  kind  of  waiting-maid,  took  the  matter  up,  and 
Baid, 

"  Indeed  they  couldn't.  There  was  no  one  at  Spring 
Bank  more  useful,  and  it  was  preposterous  for  Hugh  to 
think  of  giving  their  best  servant  to  Adah  Hastings.  Let 
lier  take  care  of  her  baby  herself.  She  guessed  it  wouldn't 
hurt  her.  Any  way,  they  couldn't  afford  to  keep  a  servant 
for  her." 

With  a  long  drawn  sigh,  Hugh  finished  his  supper,  and 
was  about  lighting  his  cigar  when  he  felt  some  one  touch 
ii!g  him,  and  turning  round  he  saw  that  Sam  had  grasped 
his  coat.  The  negro  had  heard  the  conversation,  and 
drawn  correct  conclusions.  His  new  master  was  not  rich. 
He  could  not  afford  to  buy  him,  and  having  bought  him 
could  not  afford  to  keep  him.     There  was  a  sigh  in  the 


•lENTA'S   purchase   and   HUGHS.  97 

old  man's  heart,  as  he  thought  how  useless  he  was,  hut 
when  he  heard  about  the  baby,  his  spirits  rose  at  once. 
In  all  the  world  there  was  nothing  so  precious  to  Sam  as 
a  little  white  child,  with  waxen  hands  to  pat  his  old  black 
ace,  and  his  work  was  found. 

"  MasT,"  he  whispered,  "  Sam  kin  take  keer  that  baby. 
£Je  knows  how^  and  the  little  childrens  inGeorgy,  wharl' 
corned  from,  used  to  be  mighty  fond  of  Sam.    I'll  tend  to 
the  young  lady  too.    May  I,  Mas'r  ?  " 

Sam  did  not  look  much  like  Hugh's  ideas  of  a  child's 
nurse  or  a  ladle's  waiting  maid,  but  necessity  knows  no 
choice,  and  thinking  the  old  man  might  answer  for  Willie 
until  something  better  offered,  he  replied, 

"Perhaps  you  may.     I  will  see  to-morrow." 

Then,  stepping  to  the  door  he  called  Claib,  and  bidding 
him  show  Sam  where  he  was  to  sleep,  repaired  himself 
to  his  own  cold  chamber  which  seemed  doubly  comfort- 
less and  dreary  from  its  contrast  with  the  warm  pleasant 
sitting  room  where  the  selfish  'Lina,  delighted  at  his  ab- 
sence, was  again  admiring  the  handsome  silk,  which  Adah 
was  to  make. 


HUGH    WORTHING  l^W 


CHAPTER  XI. 


SAM  AND  ADAH. 


With  heavy  eyes  and  aching  head  Adah  worked  day 
after  day  upon  the  dress,  which  'Lina  had  coaxed  her  to 
make,  saying  both  to  her  and  Aunt  Eunice  that,  as  she 
wished  to  surprise  Hugh  with  a  sight  of  herself  in  full  ar- 
ray, they  were  not  to  tell  him  that  the  dress  was  new,  but 
suffer  him  to  think  it  the  old  pink  silk  which  she  was  fix- 
ing. 

"  I  hardly  suppose  he'd  know  the  difference,"  she  said, 
"  but  if  you  can  arrange  it  not  to  work  when  he  is  here,  I 
wish  you  would." 

'  Lina  could  be  very  gracious  when  she  chose,  and  as 
she  saw  a  way  by  which  Adah  might  be  useful  to  her,  she 
chose  to  be  so  now,  and  treated  the  unsuspecting  girl  so 
kindly,  that  Adah  promised  to  undertake  the  task,  which 
'proved  a  harder  one  than  she  had  anticipated.  Anxious 
to  gratify  'Lina,  and  keep  what  she  was  doing  a  secret 
from  Hugh,  who  came  to  the  cottage  often,  she  was  oblig- 
ed to  work  early  and  late,  bending  over  the  dress  by  the 
dim  candle  light,  until  her  head  seemed  bursting  with 
pain,  and  rings  of  fire  danced  before  her  eyes.  She  never 
would  have  succeeded  but  for  Uncle  Sam,  who  proved  a 
most  efficient  member  of  the  household,  fitting  in  every 
niche  and  corner,  until  Aunt  Eunice  wondered  how  she 
had  ever  lived  without  him.  Particularly  did  he  attach 
himself  to  Willie,  relieving  Adah  from  all  care,  and  thus 
enabling  her  to  devote  every  spare  moment  to  the  party 
dress. 

« You's  workin'  yourself  to  death,"  he  said  to  her,  as 
late  on  Saturday  night  she  sat  bending  to  the  tallow  can- 


SAM  AND    ADAH.  ©9 

die,  her  h'^n  bi  ashed  back  from  her  forehead  and  a  pur- 
phsh  ^low  ujrvon  her  cheek. 

"  I  know  I'm  working  too  hard,"  Adah  replied,  and  lean- 
ing back  ill  her  chiih  she  closed  her  eyes  wearily,  while 
Sam,  gazing  admiringly  at  her  continued  "You  'minda 
Imp  some  of  de  young  la5y  m  V'3rginny.     Has  I  ever  tole 
5  oil  'bout  her  ?  " 

"  No,  who  was  she  ?  "  Adah  saM,  and  Sam  replied, 

"  She's  what  teached  me  the  way  to  God.  She  took 
my  dried-up-hand  in  dem  little  soft  ones  of  hern,  white  aa 
cotton  bats,  and  lead  me  up  to  de  naiTow  gap.  She  push 
me  in  and  say,  '  Go  on  now,  Sam.  You've  got  in  de 
right  track,  that  leads  to  glory  hallelujah.'  Didn't  word  it 
lust  dem  words,  be  sure,  but  that's  the  heft  of  the  mean- 
ing. I  tell  you  Sam  was  mighty  nigh  as  shipwrecked  as 
dat  Polio  somebody  what  Miss  Mlis  read  about  in  the 
good  book. 

**  Miss  who  ?  "  Adah  asked,  and  Sam  replied, 

**  Miss  Ellis.  I  done  forget  de  other  name.  Ellis  they 
call  her  way  down  thar  whar  Sam  was  sold,  when  dat 
man  with  the  big  splot  on  his  forerd  steal  me  away  and 
sell  me  in  Yirginny.     Miss  ever  hearn  tell  o'  dat  ?  " 

"Big  what?'''  Adah  asked,  and  Sam  replied,  "Big 
scar  or  marh  kinder  purple,  on  his  forrid,  right  clus  to  the 
har." 

Adah  shuddered,  for  the  one  she  knew  as  her  guardian 
was  marked  in  that  way,  and  she  asked  Sam  to  tell  her 
more  of  the  man  with  the  splot. 

Delighted  to  tell  the  story  which  he  never  tired  of  tell- 
''ing,  Sam,  in  his  own  peculiar  dialect,  related  bow  four 
vears  before,  a  man  calling  himself  Sullivan  had  apjiear 
k1  in  the  neighborhood  of  his  former  master's  plantation 
ingratiating  himself  into  the  good  graces  of  the  negroes 
and  secretly  offering  to  conduct  any  to  the  land  of  free- 
dom who  would  put  themselves  under  his  protection. 

"  I  had  an  id^e,"  Sam  said,  "  that  freedom  was  sweet  aa 


100  HUGH   WOETHINGTC^. 

bumble  bees'  honey  and  I  hankered  to  get  a  taste,  so  me 
and  two  more  fools  steal  away  from  the  old  cabin  one 
rainy  night,  and  go  with  Mas'r  Sullivan,  who  strut  round 
mighty  big,  with  his  three  niggers,  tellin'  us  not  to  say 
one  word  ef  we  not  want  to  be  cotched.  We  thinks  he'a 
I  akin'  a  bee  line  for  Canada,  when  fust  we  knows  wc's  in 
ole  Virginny,  and  de  villain  not  fi-eein'  us  at  all.  He  sella 
as.  Me  he  most  give  away,  'case  I  was  old,  and  the 
mas'r  who  buy  some  like  Mas'r  Hugh,  he  sorry  for  ole 
shaky  nigger.  Sam  tell  him  on  his  knees  how  he  comed 
from  Kaintuck,  but  Mas'r  Sullivan  say  he  bought  'em/ar, 
and  that  the  right  mas'r  sell  'em  sneakin  like  to  save  rais- 
in a  furse,  and  he  show  a  bill  of  sale.  They  believe  him 
spite  of  dis  chile,  and  so  Sam  'long  to  anodder  mas'r." 

**  Mas'r  Fitzhugh  live  on  big  plantation — and  one  day  she 
comed,  with  great  trunk,  a  visitin'.  She'd  been  to  school 
with  Miss  Mabel,  Mas'r  Fitzhugh's  daughter. 

"They  all  think  heap  of  Miss  Ellis,  and  I  hear  de  blacks 
tellin'  how  she  berry  rich,  and  comed  from  w^ay  off  thar 
whar  white  niggers  live  —  Masser-something." 

"Massachusetts,"  suggested  Adah. 

"  Yes  ;  that's  the  very  mas'r.  I'se  got  mizzable  memory, 
and  I  disremembers  her  last  name.  The  folks  call  her 
Mlis,  and  the  blacks  Miss  Ellis." 

"A  queer  name  for  a  first  one,"  Adah  thought,  while 
Sam  continued, 

"  She  jest  like  bright  angel,  in  her  white  gownds  and 
dem  long  curls,  and  Sam  like  her  so  much.  She  talk  to 
Sam,  too,  and  her  voice  so  sweet,  just  like  falling  water 
when  the  moon  is  shining  on  it.  Sam  very  sick,  want  to 
go  home  so  much,  and  lie  all  day  in  his  little  cabin,  w^hei* 
^he  come  in,  holdin'  up  her  skirts  so  dainty  like,  and  set 
right  down  with  me.  Ki,  wasn't  her  little  hand  soft 
though  when  she  put  it  on  my  head  and  said,  '  Poor  Sam, 
Ellis  is  sorry.'  Sam  cry  berry  much  then  ;  cry  so  loud 
Miss  Mabel  hear,  and  come  in,  tellin'  Miss  Ellis,  *  Pooh 


SAM   AND    ADAH.  ^^l 


he's  only  homesick;  says  he  was  stole  from  Kentucky 
but  papa  don't  beUeve  him.    Do  come  out  of  this  hole, 
but  Miss  Ellis  not  go.     She  say,  '  Then  he  needs  comfort- 
in-;  and  she  do  that  very  thing.     She  talk  so  good,  she 
ax°  Sam  all  'bout  it,  and  Sam  feel  she  b'lieve  him.     She 
•  romisc  to  write  to  Mas'r  Brown  and  tell  him  whar  I  i9 
didn't  cry  loud  then  -  heart  too  full.     I  cry  whimpcrin 
ike,  and  she  cry  too.     Then  she  tell  me  about  God,  and 
Sam  listen,  oh,  listen  so  much,  for  that's  what  he  want  to 
hear  so  long.     Miss  Nancy,  in  Kentuck,  be  one  of  them 
that  reads  her  pra'rs  o'  Sundays,  and  ole  mas'r  one  that 
hollers  'em.     Sam  liked  that  way  best,  seemed  like  gettin 
alone  and  make  de  Lord  hear,  but  it  don't  show  Sam  the 
way°and  when  the  ministers  come  in,he  listen,  but  them  that 
reads  and  them  that  hollers  only  talk  about  High  and 
Low  -  Jack  and  the  Game,  or  something,  Sam  misremem- 
berssobad;  got  mizzable  memory.     He  only  knows  he 
not  find  the  way,  till  Miss  Ellis  tell  him  of  eT-^^i.^,  once  a 
man  and   always  God.     It's  very  queer,  but  Sam  believe 
it  and  then  she  sing,  '  Come  unto  me.' 

«  Oh,  so  fine,  the  very  rafters  hold  their  brefi*,  and  Sam 
find  the  way.  Sam  feel  the  hand  she  say  was  stretched 
out  for  him.  He  grasp  it  tight.  He  never  let  it  go, 
never  cease  thankin'  God  that  'Come  unto  me'  mean  just 
8uch  an  ole  nigger  as  Sam,  or  that  Miss  Ellis  was  sent  to 
him  She  teach  me  '  Our  Father,'  and  I  say  it  every  day, 
and  I  'members  her,  too,  and  now  I  puts  her  and  Masr 
Huo-h  in  de  same  words'.  Seems  ef  they  make  good  span, 
only  Mas'r  Hugh  not  so  fixed  up  as  she,  but  he's  good. 
"Where  is  Miss  Ellis  now?"   Adah  asked,  and  Sam 

r.^plied. 

«  Gone  home.  Gone  to  Masser  -  what  you  say  once 
_but  not  till  letter  come  to  her  fiom  Mas'r  Brown, 
savin'  Sam  was  stealed,  and  'fore  long  Mas'r  Brown  come 
on  hisself  after  me  and  the  others.  Miss  Ellis  so  glad, 
and  Mas'r  Fitzhugh,  too.    Sam  not  much  'count,  he  say, 


102  HUGH  WOETHINGTC  W. 

and  let  me  go  easy,  that's  the  way  I  come  tome.  Misa 
Ellis  gived  me  five  dollars  and  then  ask  what  else.  I 
look  at  her  and  say,  *  Sam  wants  a  spear  or  two  of  yer 
ehinin'  har,'  and  Miss  Mabel  takes  shears  and  cut  a  little 
curl.  Fse  got  'em  now.  I  never  spend  the  money,'  and 
from  an  old  leathern  wallet  Sam  drew  a  bill  and  a  soft^ 
Bilken  curl  which  he  laid  across  Adah's  hapd. 

"And  where  is  Sullivan  ?"  asked  Adah,  a  chill  creep- 
ing over  her  as  she  remembered  how  about  four  years  ago 
the  man  she  called  her  guardian  was  absent  for  some 
time,  and  came  back  to  her  with  colored  hair  and  whis- 
kers. 

"  Oh,  he  gone  long  before,  nobody  know  whar.  Sara 
b'lieves,  though,  he  hear  they  cotch  him,  but  misremem- 
bers,  got  such  mizzable  memory." 

"  You  said  he  had  a  mark  ? "  Adah  continued.  And 
Sam  replied,  "Yes,  queer  mark,  —  must  of  been  thar 
when  he  was  borned,  showd  better  when  he's  cussin  mad. 
You  ever  seen  him  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know,"  and  Adah  half  groaned  aloud  at  the  sad 
memories  which  Sam's  story  had  awakened  within  her. 

She  could  scarcely  doubt  that  Sullivan  the  negro-stealer, 
and  Redfield,  her  guardian,  were  the  same,  but  where 
was  he  now,  and  why  had  he  treated  her  so  treacher- 
ously, when  he  had  always  seemed  so  kind  ?  Why  did 
everybody  desert  her  ?  What  had  she  done  to  deserve 
80  sad  a  fate?  All  the  old  bitter  anguish  was  welling  up 
again,  and  desirous  of  being  alone,  she  bade  Sam  leave 
her  as  it  was  growing  late. 

"  Miss  Adah  prays,"  the  old  man  answered,  "  Won't 
gne  say  Our  Father  with  Sam  ?  " 

Adah  could  not  refuse,  and  falling  on  her  knees  she 
joined  her  voice  with  that  of  Sam's  in  that  most  beauti- 
ful of  all  prayers  —  the  one  our  Saviour  taught.  Sam 
did  not  know  it  correctly,  but  God  heard  him  all  the 
same ;  heard  too,  the  strangely- worded  petition  that  "  He 


SAM  AND  ADAH.  103 

would  bless  Mas'r  Hugh,  Miss  Ellis,  and  Miss  Adah,  and 
fotch  'em  all  right  some  time. 

Surely  Hugh's  sleep  was  sweeter  that  night  for  the 
prayer  breathed  by  the  lowly  negro,  and  even  the  wild 
tumult  in  Adah's  heart-  was  hushed  by  Sam's  simple 
childlike  faith  that  God  would  bring  all  right  at  last. 

Early  on  Monday  afternoon  'Lina,  taking  adv^antago 
of  Hugh's  absence,  came  over  fbr  her  dress,  finding  mucl. 
fault,  and  requiring  some  of  the  work  to  be  done 
twice  ere  it  suited  her.  Without  a  murmur  Adah  obeyed, 
but  when  the  last  stitch  was  taken  and  the  party  dress 
was  gone,  her  overtaxed  frame  gave  way,  and  Sam  him 
self  helped  her  to  her  bed,  where  she  lay  moaning,  with 
the  blinding  pain  in  her  head,  which  increased  so  fast 
that  she  scarcely  saw  the  tempting  Uttle  supper  which 
Aunt  Eunice  brought,  asking  her  to  eat.  Of  one  thing, 
however,  she  was  conscious,  and  that  of  the  dark  form 
bending  over  her  pillow  and  whispering  soothingly  the 
passage  which  had  once  brought  Heaven  to  him,  "  Come 
unto  me,  and  I  will  give  you  rest." 

Dear  old  Sam !  there  was  a  world  of  kindness  in  his 
breast,  and  if  he  could  he  would  gladly  have  taken 
Adah's  sufiering  upon  himself. 

The  night  had  closed  in  dark  and  stormy,  and  the  win- 
try rain  beat  against  the  windows ;  but  for  this  he  did 
not  hesitate  a  moment  when  at  midnight  Aunt  Eunice, 
alarmed  at  Adah's  rapidly  increasing,  fever,  asked  if  he 
could  find  his  way  to  Spring  Bank,  and  in  a  few  moments 
the  old,  shriveled  form  was  out  in  the  darkness,  groping 
*t8  way  over  the  fences,  and  through  the  pitfalls,  stumbling 
often,  and  losing  his  hat  past  recovery,  so  that  the  sno^vy 
hair  was  dripping  wet  when  Spring  Bank  was  reached  and 
he  stood  upon  the  porch. 

In  much  alarm  Hugh  dressed  himself  and  hastened  to 
the  cottage.  But  Adah  did  not  know  him  and  only  talked 
of  dresses  and  parties,  and  George^  whom  she  begged  to 


%04t  HITGH  WOETHINGTON. 

oome  back  and  restore  her  good  name.  The  iresses  and 
the  party  were  enigmas  to  Hugh,  and  as  Aunt  Eunice  kept 
Bilent  for  fear  of  his  wrath,  he  gathered  nothing  from  Sam's 
muttered  jumble  about,  "  working  herself  blind  for  Miss 
'Lina  over  dar."  He  knew  she  msst  have  medical  advice, 
and  giving  a  few  directions  to  Aunt  Eunice  he  went  him- 
self for  the  family  physician  and, then  returned  to  Spring 
Bank  in  quest  of  his  mother,  who,  he  was  sure,  would  not 
hesitate  to  brave  the  storm  for  Adah's  sake. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

WHAT    FOLLOWED. 

There  was  a  bright  light  in  the  sitting  room,  and  through 
the  half-closed  shutters  Hugh  caught  glimpses  of  a  blazing 
fire.  'Lina  had  come  home,  and  half  wishing  she  had 
Btaid  a  little  longer,  Hugh  entered  the  room,  starting  with 
an  exclamation  of  surprise  at  the  sight  which  met  his  view. 
Divested  of  her  gorgeous  apparei,  her  ample  dimensions 
considerably  reduced,  and  her  face  indicative  of  her  feel- 
ings, 'Lina  stood  upon  the  hearth,  wringing  her  long  black 
hair,  which  hung  loosely  about  her  shoulders,  while  her 
mother  bent  with  deep  concern  over  the  mud-bespattered, 
ruined  dress,  which  had  cost  so  much. 

Poor  'Lina!  The  party  had  proved  a  most  unsat- 
isfactory afiair.  She  had  not  made  the  sensation  she  ex- 
'uected  to  make.  Harney  had  scarcely  noticed  her  at  all, 
(laving  neither  eyes  nor  ears  for  any  one  save  Ellen  Tifflon, 
who  surely  must  have  told  that  Hugh  was  not  invited,  for, 
in  no  other  way  could  'Lina  account  for  the  remark  she 
heard  touchingr  her  want  of  heart  in  failins:  to  resent  a 
brother's  insult.  Added  to  this,  it  was  very  annoying  to  be 
quizzed,  as  she  was,  concerning  Adahy  of  whom  everybody 


WHAT  FOLLOWED.  10& 

seemed  resolved  to  talk.  In  the  most  uneii viable  of 
moods,  'Lina  left  at  an  early  hour,  and  though  Harney  did 
accompany  her  to  the  carriage,  saying  something  about  be- 
ing sorry  that  she  should  go  so  soon  when  he  meant  to  see 
more  of  her,  it  did  not  atone  for  his  past  neglect  or  for  hia 
lioldingthe  umbrella  so  that  the  little  greenish  streams  of 
water  dripped  directly  down  her  back,  making  her  fidget 
with  terror  lest  her  rose-colored  dress  should  be.  soiled. 
Coolly  bidding  him  good  night,  she  bade  Cajsar  drive  care- 
fully, as  it  was  very  dark,  and  the  rain  was.  almost  blinding, 
so  rapidly  it  fell. 

"  Ye-es,  Mis-s,  Caes  —  he  —  he  done  been  to  party  fore 
now.  Git  'long  dar,  SoiTel,"  hiccoughed  the  negro,  who, 
in  Colonel  Tiffton's  kitchen  had  indulged  rather  too  freely 
to  insure  the  safety  of  his  mistress. 

Still  the  horses  knew  the  road,  and  kept  it  until  they 
left  the  main  highway  and  turned  into  the  fields.  Even 
then  they  would  probably  have  made  their  way  in  safety, 
had  not  their  drunken  driver  persisted  in  turning  them  into 
a  road  which  led  directly  through  the  deepest  part  of  the 
creek,  swollen  now  by  the  melted  snow  and  the  vast 
amount  of  rain  which  had  fallen  since  the  sun-setting, 
Not  knowing  they  were  wrong,  'Lina  did  not  dream  of 
danger  until  she  heard  Csesar's  cry  of  "  Who'a  dar.  Sor- 
rel. Git  up,  Henry.  Dat's  nothin'  but  de  creek,"  while 
a  violent  lurch  of  the  carriage  sent  her  to  the  opposite  side 
from  where  she  had  been  sitting. 

"What  is  the  matter,  Caesar?  Where  are  we?  "she 
screamed,  as  she  heard  the  waters  splashing  almost  against 
*Jie  windows. 

"  Lor',  Miss,  I  do'  know  whar  we  is,  'cept  we're  in 
i,he  river.  I  never  seen  no  creek  so  high  as  this,"  was  the 
frightened  negro's  answer  as  he  tried  to  extricate  the  noble 
brutes  floundering  in  the  stream  and  struggling  to  reach 
the  opposite  bank. 

A  few  mad  plunges,  another  wrench,  which  pitched 
6» 


106  HUGH    WORTHINGTON. 

•Lina  headlong  against  the  window,  and  the  steep,  sbelv 
ing  bank  was  reached,  but  in  endeavoring  to  climb  it  the 
carriage  was  upset,  and  'Lin a  found  herself  in  pitch} 
darkness,  her  mouth  and  nostrils  filled  with  the  soft  mud, 
which,  at  fii-st,  prevented  her  screaming,  and  herself  wet 
to  her  neck  with  the  rushing  water.  Perfectly  sobered 
now,  CiBsar  extricated  her  as  soon  as  possible,  and  carry 
ing  her  up  the  bank  placed  her  upon  her  feet  beneath  a 
tree,  whose  leafless  branches  but  poorly  shielded  her  from 
the  rain.  The  carriage  was  broken  —  one  wheel  was  off 
entirely,  he  said,  and  thus  there  was  no  alternative  save 
for  'Lina  to  walk  the  remaining  distance  home.  It  was 
not  far,  for  the  scene  of  the  disaster  was  within  sight  of 
Spring  Bank,  but  to  'Lina,  bedraggled  with  mud  and  wet 
to  the  skin,  it  seemed  an  interminable  distance,  and  her 
strength  was  giving  out  just  as  she  reached  the  piazza,  and 
called  on  her  mother  for  help,  sobbing  hysterically  as  she 
repeated  her  story,  but  dwelling  most  upon  her  ruined 
dress. 

"What  will  Hugh  say?  It  was  not  paid  for  either. 
Oh  dear,  I  most  wish  I  was  dead  !  "  she  moaned,  as  her 
mother  removed  one  by  one  the  saturated  garments. 

The  sight  of  Hugh  called  forth  her  grief  afresh,  and 
forgetful  of  her  dishabille,  she  staggered  toward  him,  and 
impulsively  winding  her  arms  around  his  neck  sobbed 
out, 

"  Oh,  Hugh,  I've  had  such  a  doleful  time.  I've  been 
in  the  creek,  the  carriage  is  broken,  the  horses  are  lamed, 
Caesar  is  drunk,  and — and  —  oh,  Hugh,  I've  spoiled  my 

dress ! " 

«. 

The  last  came  gaspingly,  as  if  this  were  the  straw  toe 
many,  the  crowning  climax  of  the  whole,  the  loss  which 
'Lina  most  deplored.  Surely  here  was  a  list  of  dibastera 
for  which  Hugh,  with  his  other  trouble,  was  not  prepared. 
But  amid  it  all  there  was  a  glimmer  of  light,  and  Hugh's 
great,  warm  heart  seized  it  eagerly.    'Lina's  arms  wtjre 


WHA.T   FOLLOWED.  107 

round  his  neck,  'Lina's  tears  were  on  his  cheek,  TLina  her 
self  had  turned  to  him  for  comfort,  and  he  would  not 
withhold  it.  Laughing  merrily  he  held  her  off  at  a  little 
distance,  likening  her  to  a  mermaid  fresh  from  the  sea, 
and  succeeding  at  last  in  quieting  her  until  she  could  give 
a  more  concise  account  of  the  catastrophe.  . 

"  Never  mind  the  dress,"  he  said,  good  humoredly,  afl 
she  kept  recurring  to  that.  "  It  isn't  as  if  it  were  new. 
An  old  thing  is  never  so  valuable.*' 

"  Yes ;  but,  Hugh  —  you  don't  know  —  oh,  dear,  dear," 
and  'Lina,  who  had  meant  to  tell  the  whole,  broke  down 
again,  while  Hugh  rejoined, 

"Of  course  I  don't  know — just  how  a  girl  feels  to 
spoil  a  pretty  dress,  but  I  wouldn't  cry  so  hard.  You 
shall  have  another  some  time,"  and  in  his  generous  heart 
the  thought  arose,  that  the  first  money  he  got  should  be 
appropriated  to  the  purchase  of  a  new  dress  in  place  of 
the  one  whose  loss  'Lina  so  loudly  bewailed. 

It  was  impossible  now  for  Mrs.  Worthington  to  accom- 
pany Hugh  to  the  cottage,  so  he  returned  alone,  while 
'Lina,  with  aching  head  and  shivering  limbs,  crept  into 
bed,  crying  herself  to  sleep,  and  waking  in  the  morning 
with  a  burning  fever,  scarcely  less  severe  than  that  raging 
in  Adah  Hastings'  veins. 

During  the  gloomy  weeks  which  followed,  Hugh's  heart 
and  hands  were  full,  inclination  tempting  him  to  stay  by 
Adah,  and  stern  duty,  bidding  him  keep  with  'Lina,  who, 
strange  to  say,  was  always  more  quiet  when  he  was  near 
taking  readily  from  him  the  medicine  refused  when  offered 
by  her  mother.  Day  after  day,  week  after  week,  Hugh|^^ 
watched  alternately  at  their  bedsides,  and  those  who  came 
to  t)ffor  help  felt  their  hearts  glow  with  admiration  for  the 
worn,  h-iggard  man,  whose  character  they  had  so  mistaken, 
never  dreaming  what  depths  of  patient,  all-enduring 
tenderness  were  hidden  beneath  his  rough  exterior.  Even 
Ellen  Tiffton  was  seftened,  and  forgetting  the  Ladies 


108  HUGH   WOETHINGTON. 

Fair,  rode  daily  over  to  Spring  Bank,  ostensibly  tr  inquire 
after  'Lina,  but  really  to  speak  a  kindly  word  to  Hugh,  to 
whom  she  felt  she  had  done  a  wrong.  How  long  these 
fevers  ran,  and  Hugh  began  to  fear  that  'Lina's  never 
would  abate,  son*owing  much  for  the  harsh  words  which 
passed  between  thera,  wishing  they  had  been  unsaid,  for 
he  would  rather  than  none  but  pleasant  memories  should 
bo  left  to  him  of  his  only  sister.  But  'Lina  did  not  die, 
and  as  her  disease  had  from  the  first  assumed  a  far  more 
violent  form  than  Adah's,  so  it  was  the  first  to  yield,  and 
February  found  her  convalescent.  With  Adah  it  was 
different,  and  the  neighbors  grew  tired  of  asking  how  she 
was  and  leceiving  always  the  same  doubtful  answer.  But 
there  came  a  change,  a  morning  when  she  awoke  from  the 
deathlike  stupor  which  had  clouded  her  faculties  so  long, 
and  the  attending  physician  said  to  Hugh  that  his  sei-vices 
would  be  needed  but  a  little  longer.  There  was  joy  at 
the  cottage  then,  old  Uncle  Sam  stealing  away  to  his 
accustomed  place  of  prayer  down  by  the  Willow  Spring, 
where  he  so  oft  had  asked  that  Miss  Adah  might  be 
spared,  and  where  now  he  knelt  to  thank  the  God  who 
had  restored  her.  Joy  at  Spring  Bank,  too,  when  Mrs. 
Worthington  wept  tears  almost  as  joyful  as  any  she  had 
shed  when  told  that  'Lina  would  live.  Joy,  too,  unobtrusive 
joy  in  Hugh's  heart,  a  joy  which  would  not  be  clouded  by 
thoughts  of  the  heavy  bills  which  he  must  meet  ere  long. 
Physicians'  bills,  together  with  that  of  Harney's  yet 
unpaid,  for  Harney,  villain  though  he  was,  would  not 
present  it  when  Hugh  was  full  of  trouble  ;  but  the  hour 
Twas  coming  when  it  must  be  settled,  and  Hugh  at  last  re- 
ceived a  note,  couched  in  courteous  terms,  but  urging 
immediate  payment. 

"I'll  see  him  to-day.  I'll  know  the  worst  at  once,** 
he  said,  and  mounting  Rocket,  he  dashed  down  the 
Frankfort  turn23ike,  and  was  soon  closeted  with  Harney 


HOW    HUGH   PAID    HIS    DEBTS.  109 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

HOW   HUGH   PAID    HIS   DEBTS. 

f 

The  perspiration  was  standing  in  great  drcps  about 
Hugh's  quivering  lips,  and  his  face  was  white  as  astes,  as, 
liear  the  close  of  that  interview,  he  hoarsely  asked, 

"Do  I  understand  you,  sir,  that  Rocket  will  cancel 
this  debt  and  leave  you  my  debtor  for  one  hundred 
dollars  r 

"  Yes,  that  was  my  oiFer,  and  a  most  generous  one,  too, 
considering  how  little  horses  are  bringing,"  and  Harney 
smiled  villianously  as  he  thought  within  himself,  "  Easier 
to  manage  than  I  supposed.  I  believe  my  soul  I  offered 
too  much.     I  should  have  made  it  an  even  thing."    , 

He  did  not  know  Hugh  Worthington,  or  dream  of  the 
volcano  pent  up  beneath  that  calm  exterior.  Hugh  had 
demurred  to  the  fifty-dollar  silk  as  a  mistake,  and  when 
convinced  that  it  was  not,  his  wrath  had  known  no  bounds. 
Forgetting  Golden  Hair  he  had  sworn  so  roundly  that 
even  Harney  cowered  before  the  storm  ;  but  that  was  over 
now,  and  ashamed  of  his  passion,  Hugh  was  making  a 
strong  effort  to  meet  his  fate  like  a  man.  Step  by  step 
as  he  knew  so  well  how  to  do,  Harney  had  reached  the 
point  of  which  for  more  than  a  year  he  had  never  lost 
sight. 

"  If  Mr.  Worthington  had  not  the  ready  money,  and, 

\w  these  hard  times,  it  was  natural  to  suppose  he  had  not, 

ivhj  then   he  would,  as  an  accommodation,  take  Rocket, 

paying  one  hundred  dollars  extra,  and  Hugh's  debt  would 

be  cancelled." 

Hugh  knew  how  long  this  plan  had  been  premeditated, 
and  his  blood  boiled  madly  when  he  heard  it  suggested, 
as  if  that  moment  had  given  it  birth.     Still  he  restrained 


110  HUGH   WORTHINGTON. 

himself  and  asked  the  question  we  have  recordt  d,  adding 
after  Harney's  reply, 

"  And  suppose  I  do  not  care  to  part  with  Rocket  ?  " 

Harney  winced  a  little,  but  answered  carelessly, 

''Money,  of  course,  is  just  as  good.  You  know  how 
long  I've  waited.     Few  would  have  done  as  well." 

Ves,  Hugh  knew  that,  but  Rocket  was  as  dear  to  him 
Bi  his  right  eye,  and  he  would  almost  as  soon  have  pluck- 
ed out  the  one  as  sold  the  other. 

"  T  have  not  the  money,"  he  said  frankly,  "  and  I  cannot 
part  with  Rocket.  Is  there  nothing  else  ?  I'll  give  a 
mortgage  on  Spring  Bank." 

Harney  did  not  care  for  a  mortgage,  but  there  was 
Bomcthing  else,  and  the  rascally  face  brightened,  as,  step- 
ping back,  while  he  made  the  proposition,  he  faintly  sug- 
gested "  Lulu."  He  would  give  a  thousand  dollars  for 
her,  and  Hugh  could  keep  his  horse.  For  a  moment  the 
two  young  men  regarded  each  other  intently,  Hugh's  eyes 
flashing  gleams  of  fire,  and  his  whole  face  expressive  of 
the  contempt  he  felt  for  the  wretch  who  cowed  at  last  be- 
neath the  look,  and  turned  away  muttering  that  "  he  saw 
nothing  so  very  heinous  in  wishing  to  purchase  a  nigger 
wench." 

Then,  changing  his  tone  to  one  of  defiance,  he  added, 

"You'll  be  obliged  to  part  with  her  yet,  Hugh  Worth- 
ington.  I  know  how  you  are  straitened  and  how  much 
you  think  of  her.  You  may  not  have  another  so  good  a 
chance  to  provide  her  with  a  kind  master.  Surely,  you 
should  be  satisfied  with  that  fair-haired  New  York  damsel, 
and  let  me  have  the  nigger." 

Harney  tried  to  smile,  but  the  laugh  died  on  his  lips,  as, 
ff)rii.ging  to  his  feet,  Hugh,  with  one  blow,  felled  him  to 
the  floor,  exclaiming, 

"Thus  do  I  resent  the  insult  offered  to  Adah  Hastings, 
as  ]>ure  and  true  a  woman  as  your  own  sister.  Villain  !  " 
and  he  shook  fiei-cely  his  prostrate  foe  struggling  to  rise. 


HOW    HUGH   PAID    HIS    DEBTS.  Ill 

Some  men  are  decidedly  better  for  being  knocked  down, 
and  Harney  was  one  of  tliem.  Feminine  in  figure  and 
cowardly  in  disposition,  lie  knew  he  was  no  match  for  the 
broad,  athletic  Hugh,  and  shaking  down  his  pants  when 
permitted  to  stand  upright,  he  muttered  something  about 
**  hearing  from  him  again."  Then,  as  the  sight  of  the  un  ^ 
paid  bill  brought  back  to  his  mind  the  cause  of  his  pres 
ent  unpleasant  predicament  he  returned  to  the  attack,  b) 
saying, 

"  Since  you  are  not  inclined  to  part  with  either  of  your 
pets,  you'll  oblige  me  with  the  money,  and  before  to- 
morrow night.     You  understand  me,  I  presume  ?  " 

"  I  do,"  and  bowing  haughtily,  Hugh  passed  through 
the  open  door. 

In  a  kind  of  desperation  he  mounted  Rocket,  and 
dashed  out  of  town  at  a  speed  which  made  more  than 
one  look  after  him,  wondering  what  cause  there  was  for 
his  headlong  haste.  A  few  miles  from  the  city  he  slacked 
his  speed,  and  dismounting  by  a  running  brook,  sat  down 
to  think.  The  price  offered  for  Lulu  would  set  him  free 
from  every  pressing  debt,  and  leave  a  large  surplus,  but 
not  for  a  moment  did  he  hesitate. 

"  I'd  lead  Ker  out  and  shoot  her  through  the  heart,  be- 
fore I'd  do  that,"  he  said. 

Then  turning  to  the  noble  animal  cropping  the  grass 
beside  him,  he  wound  his  arms  around  his  neck,  and  tried 
to  imagine  how  it  would  seem  to  know  the  stall  at  home 
was  empty,  and  Rocket  gone.  He  could  not  sell  him, 
he  said,  as  he  looked  into  the  creature's  eyes,  meeting 
there  an  expression  almost  human,  as  Rocket  rubbed  his 
nose  against  his  sleeve,  and  uttered  a  peculiar  sound. 

"  If  I  could  pawn  him,"  he  thought,  just  as  the  sound 
of  wheels  was  heard,  and  he  saw  old  Colonel  Tiffton  driv- 
ing down  the  turnpike. 

Stopping  suddenly  as  he  caught  sight  of  Hugh,  the 
colonel   called   out   cheerily,  "How   d'ye,   young  man? 


112  HUGH    WORTHINGTON 

What  are  you  doing  there  by  the  brook  ?  lluggin  yonr 
horse,  as  I  live !  Well,  I  don't  wonder.  That's  a  fine 
nag  of  yours.  My  Nell  is  nigh  about  crazy  for  me  to  hny 
him.     What'll you  take?" 

Hugh  knew  he  could  trust  the  colonel,  and  after  a  mo- 
ment's hesitation  told  of  his  emban-assments,  and  asked 
til 3  loan  of  five  hundred  dollars,  offering  Rocket  as  secu 
rity,  with  the  privilege  of  redeeming  him  in  a  year 
Hiigh's  chin  quivered,  and  the  arm  thrown  across  Rock- 
et's neck  pressed  more  tightly  as  he  made  this  offer.  Ev- 
ery change  in  the  expression  of  his  face  was  noted  by 
the  colonel,  and  interpreted  with  considerable  accuracy. 
He  had  always  liked  Hugh.  There  was  something  in  his 
straight-forward  manner  which  pleased  him,  and  when 
he  learned  why  he  was  not  at  his  daughter's  birth-day 
party,  he  had  raised  a  most  uncomfortable  breeze  about 
the  capricious  Nellie's  ears,  declaring  she  should  apolo- 
gize, but  forgetting  lo  insist*  upon  it  as  he  at  first  meant 
to  do. 

"  You  ask  a  steep  sum,"  he  said,  crossing  one  fat  limb 
over  the  other  and  snapping  his  whip  at  Rocket,  who 
eyed  him  askance.  "  Pretty  steep  sum,  but  I  take  it,  you 
are  in  a  tight  spot  and  don't  know  what  else  to  do.  Got 
too  many  hangers  on.  There's  Aunt  Eunice  —  you  can't 
help  her,  to  be  sure,  nor  your  mother,  nor  your  sister, 
though  I'd  break  her  neck  before  I'd  let  her  run  me  into 
debt.  Your  bill  at  Harney's,  I  know,  is  most  all  of  her 
contracting,  though  you  don't  tell  me  so,  and  I  respect 
you  for  it.  She's  your  sister  —  blood  kin.  But  that  girl 
^n  the  snow  bank  —  I'll  be  hanged  if  that  was  ever  made 
.|uite  clear  to  me." 

"It  is  to  me,  and  that  is  sufficient,"  Hugh  answered 
haughtily,  while  the  old  colonel  laughingly  replied, 

"Good  grit,  Hugh.  I  like,  you  for  that.  In  short,  I 
like  you  for  every  thing,  and  that's  why  I  was  sorry  about 
that  New  York  lady.  You  see,  it  may  stand  in  the  way 
of  your  getting  a  wife  by  and  by,  that's  all.'* 


HOW    HUGH    PAID    HIS   DEBTS.  113 

**  I  shall  never  marry,"  Hugh  answered,  moodily,  kick- 
ing at  a  decaying  stump,  and  involuntarily  thinking  of 
the  Golden  Haired. 

"  No  ?  "  the  colonel  replied,  interrogatively.  "  Well 
there  ain't  many  good  enough  for  you,  that's  a  fact ;  "  there 
ain't  many  girls  good  for  any  body.  I  never  saw  but  one 
except  my  Nell,  that  was  worth  a  picayune,  and  that  wbb 
Alice  Johnson.''^ 

"  Who  f  Who  did  you  say  ?  "  And  Hugh  grew  white 
as  marble,  while  a  strange  light  gleamed  in  the  dark  eyes 
fastened  so  eagerly  upon  the  colonel's  face. 

Fortunately  for  him  the  colonel  was  too  much  absorbed 
in  dislodging  2ifly  from  the  back  of  his  horse  to  notice  his 
agitation ;  but  he  heard  the  question  and  replied,  "  I  said 
Alice  Johnson,  twentieth  cousin  of  mine  —  blast  that  fly! 
—  lives  in  Massachuse1J:s  ;  splendid  girl  —  hang  it  all,  can't 
I  hit  him  ?  —  I  was  there  two  years  ago.  Never  saw  a 
girl  that  made  my  mouth  water  as  she  did.  Most  too  pi- 
ous, though,  to  suit  me.  Wouldn't  read  a  newspaper 
Sunday,  when  that's  the  very  day  I  take  to  read  'em — 
there,  I've  killed  him."  And  well  satisfied  with  the  achieve- 
ment, the  old  colonel  put  up  his  whip,  never  dreaming  of 
the  effect. that  name  had  produced  on  Hugh,  whose  heart 
gave  one  great  throb  of  hope,  and  then  grew  heavy  and 
sad  as  he  thought  how  impossible  it  was  that  the  Alice 
Johnson  the  colonel  knew,  could  be  the  Golden  Haired. 

"  There  are  fifty  by  that  name,  no  doubt,"  he  said,  "  and 
if  there  were  not,  she  is  dead.  But  oh,  if  it  could  be 
that  she  were  living,  that  somewhere  I  could  find  her." 
"■  There  was  a  mist  before  Hugh's  vision,  and  the  arm  en- 
circling Rocket's  neck  clung  there  now  for  support,  so 
weak  and  faint  he  grew.  He  dared  not  question  the  col- 
onel farther,  and  was  only  too  glad  when  the  latter  came 
back  to  their  starting  point  and  said,  "  If  I  understand  you, 
I  can  have  Rocket  for  five  hundred  dollars,  provided  I  let 
you  redeem  him  within  a  year.    Now  that's  equivalent  to 


114  HUGH    WORTHINGTON. 

my  lending  you  five  hundred  dollai-s  out  and  out.  1  ace, 
but  seeing  it's  you,  I  reckon  I'll  have  to  do  it.  As  luck 
will  have  it,  1  was  going  down  to  Frankfort  this  very  day 
to  put  some  money  in  the  bank,  and  if  you  say  so,  we'll 
clinch  the  bargain  at  once  ;"  and  taking  out  his  leathern 
wallet,  the  colonel  began  to  count  the  required  amount. 

Alice  Johnson  was  forgotten  in  that  moment  of  pain 
ful  indecision,  when  Hugh  felt  as  if  his  very  life  was  dy- 
ing out. 

"  Oh,  I  can't  let  Rocket  go,"  he  thought,  bowing  his  face 
upon  the  animal's  graceful  neck.  Then  chiding  himself  as 
weak,  he  lifted  up  his  head  and  said :  "  I'll  take  the  mon- 
ey.    Rocket  is  yours." 

The  last  words  were  like  a  smothered  sob ;  and  the  gen- 
erous old  man  hesitated  a  moment.  But  Hugh  was  in 
earnest.  His  debts  must  be  paid,  and  five  hundred  dol- 
lars would  do  it. 

"  I'll  bring  him  round  to-morrow.  Will  that  be  time 
enough  ?  "  he  asked,  as  he  rolled  up  the  bills. 

"  Yes,"  the  colonel  replied,  while  Hugh  continued  en- 
treatingly,  "  and,  colonel,  you'll  he  kind  to  Rocket.  He's 
never  been  struck  a  blow  since  he  was  broken  to  the  sad- 
dle.    He  wouldn't  know  what  it  meant." 

.  "  Oh,  yes,  I  see  —  Rarey's  method.  Now  I  never  could 
make  that  work.  Have  to  lick  'em  sometimes,  but  I'll  re- 
member Rocket.  Good  day,"  and  gathering  up  his  reins 
Col.  Tifiton  rode  slowly  away,  leaving  Hugh  in  a  maze  cf 
bewilderment. 

That  name  still  rang  in  his  ears,  and  he  repeated  it 
again  and  again,  each  time  assuring  himself  how  impossi 
ble  it  was  that  it  should  be  she  —  the  only  she  to  him  in 
all  the  world.  And  supposing  it  were,  what  did  it 
matter  ?  What  good  could  her  existence  do  him  ?  She 
would  despise  him  now  —  no  position,  no  name,  do  mon- 
ey, no  Rocket,  and  here  he  paused,  for  above  all  thoughts 
of  the   Golden    Haired    towered  the  terrible  one  that 


HOW   HUGH   PAID    HIS   DEBTS.  115 

Rocket  was  his  no  longer  —  that  the  evi  he  most 
dreaded  had  come  upon  him.  "  But  I'll  meet  it  like  a 
man,"  he  said,  and  springing  into  his  saddle  he  rode  back 
to  Frankfort  and  dismounted  at  Harney's  door. 

In  dogged  silence  Harney  received  the  money,  gave  his 
receipt,  and  then,  without  a  word,  watched  Hugh  as  lie 
rode  again  from  town,  muttering  to  himself, "  I  shall  remem- 
ber that  he  knocked  me  down,  and  some  time  I'll  repay 


It  was  dark  when  Hugh  reach  home,  his  lowering 
brow  and  flashing  eyes  indicating  the  fierce  storm  which 
was  gathering,  and  which  burst  the  moment  he  entered  the 
room  where  'Lina  was  sitting.  In  tones  which  made 
even  her  tremble  he  accused  her  of  her  treachery,  pouring 
forth  such  a  torrent  of  wrath  that  his  mother  urged  him 
to  stop,  for  her  sake  if  no  other.  She  could  always 
quiet  Hugh,  and  he  calmed  down  at  once,  hurling  but 
one  more  misssile  at  his  sister,  and  that  in  the  shape 
of  Rocket,  who,  he  said,  was  sold  for  her  extravagance. 

'Lina  was  proud  of  Rocket,  and  the  knowledge  that  he 
was  sold  touched  her  far  more  than  all  Hugh's  angry 
words.  But  her  tears  were  of  no  avail ;  the  deed  was 
done,  and  on  the  morrow  Hugh,  with  an  unflinching  hand, 
led  his  idol  fi'om  the  stable  and  rode  rapidly  across  the 
fields,  leading  another  horse  which  was  to  bring  him 
home. 

Gloomily  the  next  morning  broke,  and  at  rather  a  late 
hour  for  him,  Hugh,  with  a  heavy  sigh,  had  raised  himsell 
upon  his  elbow,  w^ondering  if  it  were  a  dream,  or  if  during 
the  night  he  had  really  heard  Rocket's  familiar  tramp 
upon  the  lawn,  when  Lulu  came  running  up  the  stairsi 
tjxclaiming,  joyfully, 

"  He's  done  come  home,  Rocket  has.  He's  at  the  kitchen 
door." 

It  was  as  Lulu  said,  for  the  homesick  brute,  suspecting 


116  HUGH   WORTHINGTON 

something  wrong,  had  broken  from  his  fastenings,  and 
bursting  the  stable  door  had  come  back  to  Spnng  Bank, 
his  halter  dangling  about  his  neck,  and  himself  looking 
very  defiant,  as  if  he  were  not  again  to  be  coaxed  away. 
At  sight  of  Hugh  he  uttered  a  sound  of  joy,  and  bounding 
forward  planted  both  feet  within  the  door  ere  Hugh  had 
time  to  reach  it. 

"Thar's  the  old  colonel  now,"  whispered  Claib,  just  as 
the  colonel  appeared  to  claim  his  runaway. 

But  Rocket  kept  them  all  at  bay,  snapping,  striking, 
and  kicking  at  every  one  who  ventured  to  approach  him. 
With  compressed  lip  and  moody  face  Hugh  watched  the 
proceeding  for  a  time,  now  laughing  at  the  frightened 
negroes  hiding  behind  the  lye  leach  to  escape  the  range 
of  Rocket's  heels,  and  again  groaning  mentally  as  he  met 
the  half  human  look  of  Rocket's  eyes  turned  to  him  as  if 
for  aid.  At  last  rising  from  the  spot  where  he  had  been 
sitting  he  gave  the  whistle  which  Rocket  always  obeyed, 
and  in  an  instant  the  sagacious  animal  was  at  his  side, 
trying  to  lick  the  hands  which  would  not  suffer  the  caress 
lest  his  courage  should  give  way. 

"  I'll  take  him  home  myself,"  he  said  to  the  old  colonel, 
emerging  from  his  hiding  place  behind  the  leach,  and 
bidding  Claib  follow  with  another  horse,  Hugh  went  a 
second  time  to  Colonel  Tiffton's  farm. 

Leading  Rocket  into  the  stable  he  fastened  him  to  the 
stall,  and  then  with  his  arms  around  his  neck  talked  to 
him  as  if  he  had  been  a  refractory,  disobedient  child.  We 
do  not  say  he  was  understood,  but  after  one  long,  despair- 
'ing  cry,  which  rang  in  Hugh's  ears  for  many  a  day  and 
night.  Rocket  submitted  to  his  fate,  and  staid  quietly 
with  the  colonel,  who  petted  him  if  possible  more  than 
Hugh  had  done,  without,  however,  receiving  from  him 
the  slightest  token  of  affection  in  return. 


M£S.  Johnson's  letter.  117 


CHAPTER  Xiy. 

MES.  Johnson's  lettee. 

The  spring  had  passed  away,  and  the  wanii  June  sun 
was  shining  over  Spring  Bank,  whose  mistress  and  ser- 
vants were  very  lonely,  for  Hugh  was  absent,  and  with  him 
the  light  of  the  house  had  departed.  Business  of  his  late 
uncle's  had  taken  him  to  New  Orleans,  where  he  might 
possibly  remain  all  summer.  ^JLina  was  glad,  for  since 
the  fatal  dress  affair  there  had  been  but  little  harmony 
between  herself  and  her  brother.  The  tenderness  awak- 
ened by  her  long  illness  seemed  to  have  been  forgotten, 
and  Hugh's  manner  toward  her  was  cold  and  irritating  to 
the  last  degree,  so  that  the  young  lady  rejoiced  to  be 
freed  from  his  presence. 

•*  I  do  hope  he'll  stay,"  she  said  one  morning,  when 
speaking  of  him  to  her  mother.  "  I  think  it's  a  heap  ni- 
cer without  him,  though  dull  enough  at  the  best.  I  wish 
we  could  go  to  some  watering  place.  There's  the  Tiff 
tons  just  returned  from  New  York,  and  I  don't  much  be- 
lieve they  can  afford  it  more  than  we,  for  I  heard  their 
place  was  mortgaged  to  Harney.  Oh,  bother,  to  be  so 
poor,"  and  the  young  lady  gave  a  little  angry  jerk  at  the 
hair  she  was  braiding. 

"  Whar's  ole  miss  ?  "  asked  Claib,  who  had  just  return- r 
ed  from  Versailles.     "Thar's  a  letter  for  her,"  and  depos- 
iting it  upon  the  bureau,  he  left  the  room. 

"  Whose  writing  is  that  ?  "  'Lina  said,  catching  it  up 
and  examining  the  postmark.  Ho,  mother !  here's  a  let- 
ter in  a  strange  hand-writing.  Shall  I  open  it  ?  "  she 
called,  and  ere  her  mother  could  reply,  she  had  broken 


118  HUGH   WOETHINGTON. 

the  seal,  and  held  in  her  hand  tne  draft  which  made  her 
the  heiress  of  one  thousand  dollars. 

Had  the  fabled  godmother  of  Cindeiilla  appeared  tc 
her  suddenly,  she  would  scarcely  have  been  more  bewil- 
dered. 
f  "  Mother,"  she  screamed  again,  reading  aloud  the  " '  Pay 
lothe  order  of  Adaline  Worthington,' etc.  What  does 
it  mean,  and  who  could  have  sent  it?  Isn't  it  splendid? 
Who  is  Alice  Johnson  ?  Oh,  I  know,  that  old  friend  of 
yours,  who  came  to  see  you  once  when  I  was  gone. 
What  does  she  say  ?     *My  dear  Eliza,  feeling  that  I  have 

not  long  to  live '  What  —  dead  ?     Well,  I'm  sorry 

for  that,  but,  I  must  say,  she  did  a  very  sensible  thing 
sending  me  a  thousand  dollars.  We'll  go  somewhere 
now,  won't  we  ?  "  and  clutching  fast  the  draft,  the  heart- 
less girl  yielded  the  letter  to  her  mother,  who  with 
blanched  cheek  and  quivering  lip  read  the  last  message 
of  her  friend ;  then  burying  her  face  in  her  hands  she 
sobbed  as  the  past  came  back  to  her,  when  the  Alice 
now  forever  at  rest  and  herself  were  girls  together. 

'Lina  stood  a  moment,  wishing  her  mother  had  not 
cried,  as  it  made  it  very  awkward  —  then,  for  want  of 
something  better  to  do  took  up  the  letter  her  mother  had 
dropped  and  read  it  through,  commenting  as  she  read 
Wants  you  to  take  her  daughter  Alice.  Is  the  woman  cra- 
zy. And  her  nurse, DensieDensmore.  Say,  mother,  you've 
cried  enough,  let's  talk  the  matter  over.  Shall  you  let  Alice 
come  ?  Ten  dollars  a  w^eek,  they'll  pay.  Five  hundred 
and  twenty  dollars  a  year.  Whew  I  We  are  rich  as 
^Jews.  It  won't  cost  half  that  sum  to  keep  them.  Our 
eliip  is  really  coming  in." 

By  this  time  Mrs.  Worthington  was  able  to  talk  of  a 
matter  which  had  apparently  so  delighted  'Lina.  Her 
fii-st  remark,  however,  was  not  very  pleasing  to  the  young 
lady. 

"  As  far  as  I  am  concerned  I  would  willingly  give  Alice 


119 

a  home,  but  it's  not  for  me  to  say.    Hugh  alone  can  de- 
cide it.     We  must  write  to  him." 

"You  know  he'll  refuse,"  was  'Lina's  angry  reply. 
**  He  hates  young  ladies."  "  So  if  it  hangs  on  his  decision, 
you  may  as  well  save  your  postage  stamp  to  New  Or 
leans,  and  w^rite  at  once  to  Miss  Johnson  that  she  sat  not 
come,  on  account  of  a  boorish  clown." 

"  'Lina,"  feebly  interposed  Mrs.  Worthington,  freling 
how  inefficient  she  was  to  cope  with  'Lina's  stionger 
will.     "  Lina,  we  must  write  to  Hugh." 

"  Mother,  you  shall  not,"  and  'Lina  spoke  determinedly 
"  I'll  send  an  answer  to  this  letter  myself,  this  very  day. 
I  will  not  suffer  the  chance  to  be  thrown  away.  Hugh 
may  swear  a  little  at  first,  but  he'll  get  over  it." 

"  Hugh  never  swears,"  and  Mrs.  Worthington  spoke  up 
at  once. 

"He  don't,  hey?  Maybe  you've  forgotten  when  he 
came  home  from  Frankfort,  that  time  he  heard  about  my 
dress.  As  old  Sam  says,  '  I've  got  a  mizzable  memory, 
but  I 'have  a  very  distinct  recollection  that  oaths  were 
thick  as  hail  stones.     Didn't  his  eyes  blaze  though !  " 

"  I  know  he  swore  then ;  but  he  never  has  since,  I'm 
sure,  and  I  think  he  is  better,  gentler,  more  refined  than  he 
used  to  be,  since  —  since  —  Adah  came." 

A  contemptuous  **  pshaw  !  "  came  from  'Lina's  lips,  and 
then  she  proceeded  to  speak  of  Alice  Johnson,  asking  for 
her  family.  Were  they  the  F,  F.  V.'s  of  Boston?  and  so 
forth. 

To  this  Mi-s.  Worthington  gave  a  decided  affiamative ; 
repeating  to  her  daughter  many  things  which  Mrs.  John 
«on  had  herself  told  Alice  in  that  sad  interview  w^hen  sh 
ay  on  her  sick  bed  with  Alice  sobbing  near. 

So  far  as  she  was  concerned,  Alice  Johnson  was  welcom 
to  Spring  Bank ;  but  justice  demanded  that  Hugh  should 
be  consulted  ere  an  answer  were  returned.     'Lina,  how- 
ever, overruled  her  arguments  as  she  always  did,  and  with 


120  HUGH    WORTHINGTON. 

a  sigh  she  yielded  the  point,  hoping  there  wc  uld  be  some 
way  by  which  Hugh  might  be  appeased. 

"  Now  let  us  talk  a  little  about  the  thousand  dollars," 
Lina  said,  for  already  the  money  was  beginning  to  bum 
in  her  hands. 

"  Fm  going  to  Saratoga,  and  you  are  going,  too.  We'll 
have  heaps  of  dresses.  We'll  take  Xw,  for  a  waiting 
maid.  That  will  be  sure  to  make  a  sensation  at  the 
North.  '  Mrs.  Worthington,  daughter,  and  colored  servant^ 
Spring  Bank,  Kentucky.'  I  can  almost  see  that  on  the 
clerk's  books.  Then  I  can  manage  to  let  it  be  known  that 
I'm  an  heiress,  as  I  am.  We  needn't  tell  that  it's  only  a 
thousand  dollars,  most  of  which  I  have  on  my  back,  and 
maybe  I'll  come  home  Adaline  somebody  else.  There  are 
always  splendid  matches  at  Saratoga.  We'll  go  north  the 
middle  of  July,  just  three  weeks  from  now." 

'Lina  had  talked  so  fast  that  Mrs.  Worthington  had 
been  unable  to  put  in  a  word ;  but  it  did  not  matter. 
'Lina  was  invulnerable  to  all  she  could  say.  She'd  go  to 
town  that  very  day  and  make  her  purchases.  Miss^Allis, 
of  course,  must  be  consulted  for  some  of  her  dresses,  while 
Adah  could  make  the  rest.  With  regard  to  Miss  Alice, 
they  would  write  to  her  at  once,  telling  her  she  was  wel- 
come to  Spring  Bank,  and  also  informing  her  of  their  in- 
tentions to  come  north  immediately.  She  could  join 
them  at  Saratoga,  or,  if  she  preferred,  could  remain  at 
Snowdon  until  they  returned  home  in  the  autumn. 

'Lina's  decision  with  regard  to  their  future  movements 
had  been  made  so  rapidly  and  so  determinedly,  that  Mrs 
Worthington  had  scarcely  ventured  to  expostulate,  anf' 
the  few  remonstrances  she  did  advance  produced  no  im 
pression.  'Lina  wrote  to  Alice  Johnson  that  morning, 
went  to  Frankfort  that  afternoon,  to  Versailles  and  Lex- 
ington the  next  day,  and  on  the  morning  of  the  third,  af- 
ter the  receipt  of  Mrs.  Johnson's  letter.  Spring  Bank  pre- 
sented the  appearance  of  one  vast  show-room,  so  full  of 


MRS.  jounson's  lettee.  121 

silks,  and  muslins,  and  tissues,  and  flowers,  and  ribbons, 
and  laces,  while  amidst  it  all,  in  a  maze  of  perplexity  as 
to  what  was  required  of  her,  or  where  first  to  commence, 
sat  Adah,  who  had  come  at  'Lina's  bidding. 

Womanlike,  the    sight  of  'Lina's  dresses    awoke    ia 
Adah  a  thrill  of  delight,  and  she  entered  heartily  into  th 
matter  without  a  single  feeling  of  envy. 

"  I's  goin',  too.  Did  you  know  that  ? "  Lulu  said  to 
her,  as  she  sat  bending  over  a  cloud  of  lace  and  soft  blue 
eilk. 

"  You  ?  For  what  ?  "  and  Adah  lifted  her  brown  eyes 
inquiringly. 

"  Oh,  goin'  to  wait  on  'em.  It's  grand  to  have  a  nigger 
and  Miss  'Lina  keeps  trainin  me  how  to  act  and 
what  to  say.  I  ain't  to  tell  how  mean  Spring  Bank  is 
furnished,  nor  how  poor  master  Hugh  is.  Nothin'  of 
the  kind.  We're  to  be  fust  cut.  Oh,  so  nice.  Miss  'Lina 
an,  A-ifey^  and  when  we  get  home,  if  I  does  well,  I'm  to 
hev  that  gownd,  all  mud,  what  Miss  'Lina  wared  to  the 
Tifflon  party,  whew  I  "  and  in  the  mischievous  glance  of 
Lulu's  saucy  eyes,  Adah  read  that  the  quick-witted  negro 
was  not  in  the  least  deceived  with  regard  to  the  "Airey," 
as  she  called  Miss  'Lina. 

Half  amused  at  Lulu's  remarks  and  half  sorry  that  she 
had  listened  to  them,  Adah  resumed  her  work,  just  as 
'Lina  appeared,  saying  to  her,  "  Here  is  Miss  Tiffton's 
square-necked  bertha.  She's  just  got  home  from  New 
Fork,  and  says  they  are  all  the  fashion.  You  are  to  cut 
me  a  pattern.  There's  a  paper,  the  Louisville  Journal,  I 
guess,  but  nobody  reads  it,  now  Hugh  is  gone,"  and  with, 
a  few  more  general  directions,  Lina  hurried  away,  having 
first  tossed  into  Adah's  lap  the  paper  containing  Anna 
Ricliards'  advertisement. 

In  spite  of  the  doctor's  predictions  and  consignm.ent  of 
that  girl  to  Georgia,  or  some  warmer  place,  it  had  reached 
her  at  last.     The  compositor  had  wondered  at  its  wording, 
6 


122  HUGH    WORTIIINGTOIT. 

a  few  casual  readers  had  wondered  at  it,  too  —  a  western 
editor,  laughing  jocosely  at  its  "  married  or  unfortunate 
woman  with  a  child  a  few  months  old,"  had  copied  it  into 
his  columns,  thus  attracting  tlie  attentioTi  of  his  more 
south-western  neighbor,  who  had  thought  i'.  too  good  to 
ose,  and  so  given  it  to  his  readers  with  sandry  remaika 
of  his  own.  But  through  all  its  many  ohanges,  Adah's 
God  had  watched  it,  and  brought  it  arou?id  to  her.  Si.e 
did  not  see  it  at  first,  but  just  as  lier  scissors  were  raised 
to  cut  the  pattern,  her  eyes  fell  on  the  spot  headed,  "A 
curious  advertisement,"  and  suspending  her  operations 
for  a  moment,  she  read  it  through,  a  feeling  rising  in  her 
heart  that  it  was  surely  an  answer  to  her  own  advertisement 
sent  forth  months  ago,  with  tearful  prayers  that  it  might 
be  successful.  She  did  not  know  that  "A.  E.  R."  meant  it 
for  her,  and  no  one  else.  She  only  felt  that  at  TeiTace 
Hall  there  was  a  place  for  her,  a  home  where  she  would 
no  longer  be  dependent  on  Hugh,  whose  straits  she  under- 
stood perfectly  well,  knowing  why  Rocket  was  sold,  and 
how  it  hurt  his  master  to  sell  him.  Oh,  if  she  only  could 
redeem  him,  no  toil,  no  weariness  would  be  too  great ;  but 
she  never  could,  even  if  "  A.  E.  R."  should  take  her  — 
the  pay  would  be  so  small  that  Rocket  would  be  old  and 
worthless  ere  she  could  earn  five  hundred  dollars  ;  but  she 
could  do  something  toward  it,  and  her  heart  grew  light  and 
happy  as  she  thouglit  how  surprised  Hugh  would  be  to 
receive  a  letter  containing  money  earned  by  the  feeble 
Adah,  to  whom  he  had  been  so  kind. 

Adah  was  a  famous  castle-builder,  and  she  went  on 
Tearing  castle  after  castle,  until  Lina  came  back  again  and 
taking  a  seat  beside  her,  began  to  talk  so  ^railiarly  and 
pleasantly  that  Adah  felt  emboldened  to  tell  her  of  tlio 
advertisement  and  her  intention  to  answer  it.  Averse 
as  Lina  had  at  first  been  to  Adah's  remaining  ai. 
Spring  Bank,  she  now  saw  a  channel  through  which  she 
oould  be  made  very  useful,  and  would  far  rather  that  she 


MRS.  joh^'son's  letter.  123 

should  remain.  So  she  opposed  the  plan,  nrging  so  many 
aro-nments  against  it  that  Adah  began  to  think  the  idea  a 
foolish  one,  and  with  a  sigh  dismissed  it  from  her  mind 
until  another  time,  when  she  might  give  it  more  consider- 
ation. 

That  afternoon  Ellen  Tiffton  rode  over  to  see  'Inna, 
who  told  her  of  Alice  Johnson,  whom  they  were  expect- 
ing. 

"Alice  Johnson,"  Ellen  repeated;  "why,  that's  the 
gii'l  father  says  so  much  about.  Fortieth  or  fiftieth  cous- 
in. He  was  at  their  house  in  Boston  a  few  years  ago,  and 
when  he  came  home  he  annoyed  me  terribly  by  quoting 
Alice  continually,  and  comparing  me  with  her.  Of  course 
I  fell  in  the  scale,  for  there  was  nothing  like  Alice,  Alice 
—  so  beautiful,  so  refined,  so  sweet,  so  amiable,  so  rdi- 
gimisP 

«  Religious !  "  and  'Lina  laughed  scornfully.  Adah  pre- 
tends to  be  religious,  too,  and  so  does  Sam,  while  Alice 
will  make  three.  Pleasant  prospects  ahead.  I  wonder 
if  she's  the  blue  kind  —  thinks  dancing  wicked,  and  all 
that." 

Ellen  could  not  tell.  She  only  knew  what  her  father 
said ;  but  she  did  not  fancy  Miss  Alice  to  be  more  mo- 
rose or  gloomy  —  at  all  events  she  would  gladly  have  her  for 
a  companion,  and  she  thought  it  queer  that  Mrs.  Johnson 
should  send  her  to  a  stranger,  as  it  were,  when  they 
would  have  been  so  glad  to  receive  her.  "  Pa  won't  like  it 
a  bit,  I  know,  and  I  quite  envy  you,"  she  said,  as  she  took 
her  leave,  her  remarks  raising  Alice  largely  in  'Lina'a 
'  pstimation,  and  making  her  not  a  little  proud  that  Spiing 
Hank  had  been  selected  as  Miss  Johnson's  home. 

One  week  later,  and  there  came  a  letter  from  Ali-e  her- 
self saying  that  at  present  she  was  stopping  in  Boston 
with  her  guardian,  Mr.  Liston,  who  had  rented  the  oottage 
m  Snowdon,  but  that  she  would  meet  Mrs.  Worthiugton 
and  daughter  at  Saratoga.     Of  course  she  did  not  now 


124  HUGH    WORTHrN^GTON". 

feel  like  mingling  in  gay  society,  and  should  consequently 
go  to  the  Columbian,  where  she  could  be  comparatively 
quiet  but  this  need  not  interfere  with  their  arrangements, 
as  they  could  see  each  other  often. 

The  same  day  also  brought  a  letter  from  Hugh,  making 
many  kind  inquiries  after  them  all,  saying  his  business  was 
turning  out  better  than  he  expected,  and  enclosing  forty 
dollars,  fifteen  of  which,  he  said,  was  for  Adah,  and  the 
rest  for  Ad,  as  a  peace  offering  for  the  harsh  things  he  had 
said  to  her.  Hugh's  conscience  wiien  away  was  always 
troubling  him  with  regard  to  'Lina,  and  knowing  that 
money  with  her  would  atone  for  a  score  of  sins,  he  had 
felt  so  happy  in  sending  it,  giving  her  the  most  because  he 
had  sinned  aojainst  her  the  most.  Once  the  thouj^ht  suir- 
gested  itself  that  possibly  she  might  keep  the  whole,  but 
he  repudiated  it  at  once  as  a  base  slander  upon  'Lina. 

Alas,  he  little  suspected  the  treachery  of  which  she  was 
capable.  As  a  taste  of  blood  makes  wild  beasts  thirst  for 
more,  so  Mrs.  Johnson's  legacy  had  made  'Lina  greedy  for 
gold,  and  the  sight  of  the  smooth  paper  bills  sent  to  her 
by  Hugh,  awoke  her  avaricious  passions.  Forty  dollars 
was  just  the  price  of  a  superb  pearl  bracelet  in  Lexing- 
ton, and  if  Hugh  had  only  sent  it  all  to  her  instead  of  a 
part  to  Adah  !  What  did  Adah  want  of  money,  any  way, 
living  there  in  the  cornfield,  and  seeing  nobody  ?  Besides 
that,  hadn't  she  just  paid  her  three  dollars,  and  a  muslin 
dress,  and  was  that  not  enough  for  a  girl  in  her  circumstan- 
ces ?  Nobody  would  be  the  wiser  if  she  kept  the  whole, 
for  her  mother  was  not  present  when  Claib  brought  the 
letter.  She'd  never  know  they'd  heard  from  Hugh  ;  and 
f>n  the  whole  she  believed  she'd  keep  it,  and  so  she  went 
lo  Lexington  next  day  in  quest  of  the  bracelet,  which 
was  pronounced  beautiful  by  the  unsuspecting  Adah,  who 
never  dreamed  that  her  money  had  helped  to  pay  for  it. 
Truly  'Lina  was  heaping  up  against  herself  a  dark  cata- 
logue of  sin  to  be  avenged  some  day,  but  the  time  wan 
not  yet. 


SAEATOGA.  125 

Thus  far  every  thing  went  swimmingly.  The  dresses  fit. 
ted  admirably,  and  nothing  could  exceed  the  care  with  which 
they  had  been  packed.  Her  mother  no  longer  annoyed  her 
about  Hugh.  Lulu  was  quite  well  posted  with  regard  to 
ler  duty.  Ellen  TifFton  had  lent  her  quizzing-glass  and 
'several  oniamcnts,  while  Irving  Stanley,  grand-nephew 
like  Hugh,  to  Uncle  John,  was  tc  be  at  Saratoga,  so  'Lina 
incidentally  heard,  and  as  there  was  a  kind  of  relationship 
between  them,  he  would  of  course  notice  her  more  or 
less,  and  from  all  accounts,  to  be  noticed  by  him  was  a 
thing  to  be  desired. 

Thus  it  was  in  the  best  of  humors  that  'Lina  tripped 
from  Spring  Bank  door  one  pleasant  July  morning,  and 
"was  driven  with  her  mother  and  Lulu  to  Lexington, 
where  they  intended  taking  the  evening  train  for  Cincin 
nati. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

SAKATOGA. 

**  Mrs.  WoRTnrN-GTOx,  daughter,  and  colored  servant 
Spring  Bank,  Ky." 

"  Dr.  Jonx  Richards  and  mother.  New  York  City." 

"  Irving  Stanley,  Esq.,  Baltimore." 

These  were  the  last  entries  made  by  the  clerk  at  Union 
Hall,  which  was  so  crowded,  that  for  the  new  comers  no 
rooms  were  found  except  the  small,  uncomfortable  ones 
far  up  in  the  fourth  story  of  the  Ainsworth  block,  and 
thither,  in  not  the  most  amiable  mood,  'Lina  followed  her 
trunks,  and  was  followed  in  turn  by  her  mother  and  Lulu, 
the  crowd  whom  they  passed  deciphering  the  name  upon 
the  trunks  and  whispering  to  each  other,  "  From  Spring 
Bank,  Kentucky.     Haughty  looking  girl,  wasn't  she  ?  " 


126  nUGU    "VVORTHIXGTON. 

From  his  little  twelve  by  ten  apartment,  where  the 
Bummer  sun  was  pouring  in  a  perfect  blaze  of  heat,  Dr 
Richards  saw  them  pass,  and  after  wondering  who  they 
were,  gave  them  no  farther  thought,  but  sat  jamming  his 
pen-knife  into  the  old  worm-eaten  table,  and  tliinking 
Bavage  thoughts  against  that  capricious  lady.  Fortune, 
who  had  compelled  him  to  come  to  Saratoga,  where  rich 
wives  were  supposed  to  be  had  for  the  asking.  Too  late 
he  had  discovered  the  ruse  imposed  on  him  by  Mr.  List  on 
—  had  discovered  that  Alice  was  the  heiress  of  more  than 
$50,000,  and  following  the  discovery  came  the  mortifying 
knowledge  that  not  one  dime  of  it  would  probably  ever 
be  used  for  defraying  his  personal  expenses.  Alice  had 
learned  how  purely  sordid  and  selfish  was  the  man  whom 
she  had  thought  so  misunderstood  by  the  Snowdonites, 
and  in  Dr.  Richard's  vest  pocket  there  lay  at  this  very  mo- 
ment a  note,  the  meaning  of  which  was  that  Alice  Johnson 
declined  the  honor  of  becoming  his  wife.  They  would  still 
be  friends,  she  said ;  would  meet  as  if  nothing  had  oc- 
curred, but  she  could  not  be  his  wife.  This  it  was  which 
had  brought  him  to  Saratoga,  indignant,  mortified  and 
desperate.  There  were  other  heiresses  beside  Alice  John 
son  —  others  less  fastidious;  and  he  could  find  them,  too. 
Love  was  out  of  the  question,  as  that  had  died  with  poor 
Lily,  so  that  now  he  was  ready  for  the  first  chance  that 
oftered,  provided  that  chance  possessed  a  certain  style,  and 
was  tolerably  good-looking.  He  did  not  see  'Lina  at  all, 
for  she  had  passed  the  door  before  he  looked  up,  so  he 
only  saw  the  mother,  with  Lulu  trudging  obediently  be- 
hind, and  hearing  them  enter  the  room,  returned  to  his 
cogitations. 

From  his  pleasanter,  airier  apartment,  on  the  other  side 
of  the  narrow  hall,  Irving  Stanley  looked  through  bis 
golden  glasses,  pitying  the  poor  ladies  condemned  to  that 
slow  roast,  thinking  how,  if  he  knew  them,  he  would  sure- 
ly offer  to  exchange,  as  it  did  not  matter  so  much  where  a 


SARATOGA. 


127 


man  was  stowed  away,  he  was  so  seldom  in  bis  room,  while 
ladies  must  necessarily  spend  half  their  time  there  at 
least  in  dressing ;  and  with  a  sigh  for  unfortunate  ladies 
in  general,  the  kind-hearted  Irving  Stanley  closed  his  door 
and  proceeded  to  make  his  own  toilet  for  dinner,  then  on- 
ly an  hour  in  the  future. 

How  hot,  and  dusty,  and  cross  'Lina  was,  and  what  a 
look  of  dismay  she  cast  around  the  room,  with  its  two 
bedsteads,  its  bureaus,  its  table,  its  washstand,  and  its  doz- 
en pegs  for  her  two  dozen  dresses,  to  say  nothing  of  her 
mother's.  She'd  like  to  know  if  this  was  Saratoga,  and 
these  its  accommodations.  It  was  not  fit  to  put  the  pigs  in, 
and  she  w^ondered  what  the  proprietor  was  thinking  of 
when  he  sent  her  up  there. 

« I  s'pects  he  didn't  know  how  you  was  an  Airei/"  Lu- 
lu said,  demurely,  her  eyes  brimming  with  mischief. 

'Lina  turned  to  box  her  ears,  but  the  black  face  was  so 
grave  and  solemn  in  its  expression  that  she  changed  her 
mind,  thinking  she  had  been  mistaken  in  Lulu's  ironical 
tone. 

How  tired  and  faint  poor  Mrs.  Worthington  was,  and 
how  she  wished  she  had  staid  at  home,  like  a  sensible  wo- 
man, instead  of  coming  here  to  be  made  so  uncomfortable 
in  this  hot  room.  But  it  could  not  now  be  helped,  'Lina 
said;  they  must  do  the  best  they  could ;  and  with  a  for 
lorn  glance  at  the  luxuriant  patch  of  weeds,  the  most  prom- 
ment  view  from  the  window,  'Lina  opened  one  of  her 
trunks,  and  spreading  a  part  of  the  contents  upon  the  bed, 
begaL  to  dress  for  dinner,  changing  her  mind  three  times, 
driving  her  mother  and  Lulu  nearly  distracted,  and  finally 
deciding  upon  a  rich  green  silk,  which,  with  its  crimson 
trimmings,  was  very  becoming  to  her  dark  style,  but  ex 
cessively  hot-looking  on  that  sultry  day.  But  'Lina  meant 
to  make  a  good  first  impression.  Everything  depended 
upon  that,  and  as  the  green  was  the  heaviest,  richest  thing 
ehe  had,  so  she  would  first  appear  in  it.     Besides  that,  the 


128  HUGH   WOETHINGTON. 

two  young  men  who  had  looked  at  her  from  the  door  had 
not  escaped  her  observation.  She  had  seen  them  both,  de- 
ciding that  Dr.  Richards  was  the  most  distingue  of  *he 
two,  though  Irving  Stanley  was  very  elegant,  very  refined, 
and  very  intellectual  looking  in  those  glasses,  which  gave 
}dm  so  scholarly  an  appearance.  'Lina  never  dreamed 
that  this  was  Irving  Stanley,  or  she  would  have  occupied 
far  more  time  in  brushing  her  hair  and  coiling  among  its 
braids  the  bandeau  of  pearls  borrowed  of  Ellen  Tiffton. 
As  it  was,  the  dinner  bell  had  long  since  ceased  ringing, 
and  the  tread  of  feet  ceased  in  the  halls  below  ere  she  de- 
scended to  the  deserted  parlor,  followed  by  her  mother, 
nervous  and  frightened  at  the  prospect  of  this,  her  first 
appearance  at  Saratoga. 

"Pray,  rouse  yourself,"  'Lina  whispered,  as  she  saw 
how  white  she  was,  when  she  learned  that  their  seats 
were  at  the  extreme  end  of  the  dining-room — that  in 
order  to  reach  it,  nearly  one  thousand  pair  of  eyes  must 
be  encountered,  and  one  thousand  glances  braved. 
"Rouse  yourself,  do;  and  not  let  them  guess  you  were 
never  at  a  watering-place  before,"  and  'Lina  thoughtfully 
smoothed  her  mother's  cap  by  way  of  reassuring  her. 

But  even  'Lina  herself  quailed  when  she  reached  the 
door  and  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  busy  life  within,  the  ter- 
rible ordeal  she  must  pass. 

"  Oh,  for  a  pair  of  pantaloons  to  walk  beside  one,  even 
if  Hugh  were  in  them,"  she  thought,  as  her  own  and  her 
mother's  lonely  condition  rose  before  her. 

Biit  Hugh  was  watching  a  flat  boat  on  the  Mississippi, 
'that  summer  afternoon,  and  as  there  was  no  other  person 
m  whom  she  had  a  claim,  she  must  meet  her  fate  alone. 

"  Courage,  mother,"  she  whispered  again,  and  then  ad 
vanced  into  the  room,  growing  bolder  at  every  step,  for 
with  one  rapid  glance  she  had  swept  the  hall,  and  felt 
that  amid   that  bevy  of  beauty  and  fashion  there  were 
few  more  showy  than  'Lina  Worthington  in  her  rustling 


MBS.   JOHNSON^    LETTER.  129 

dress  of  green,  with  Ellen  Tiffton's  bracelet  on  one  arm* 
and  the  one  bought  with  Adah's  money  on  the  other. 

"  Here,  madam,"  and  their  conductor  pointed  to  chairs 
directly  opposite  Dr.  Richards,  watching  them  as  they 
came  up  to  the  hall,  and  deciding  that  the  young  lady'a 
arms  were  most  too  white  for  her  dark  skin,  and  her 
cheeks  a  trifle  too  red. 

"It's  put  on  skillfully,  though,"  he  thought,  while  the 
showily  dressed  old  lady  beside  him  whispered, 

"  What  elegant  bracelets,  and  handsome  point  lace  col- 
lar!" just  as  'Lina  haughtily  ordered  the  servant  to  move 
her  chair  a  little  fxrther  from  the  table. 

Bowing  deferentially,  the  polite  attendant  quickly  drew 
back  her  chair,  while  she  spread  out  her  flowing  skirts  to 
an  extent  which  threatened  to  envelop  her  mother,  sink- 
ing meekly  into  her  seat,  confused  and  flurried.  But  alas 
for  'Lina.  The  servant  did  not  calculate  the  distance 
aright,  and  the  lady,  who  had  meant  to  do  the  thing  so 
gracefully,  who  had  intended  showing  the  people  that  she 
had  been  to  Saratoga  before,  suddenly  found  herself, 
prostrate  upon  the  floor,  her  chair  some  way  behind  her, 
and  the  phite,  which,  in  her  descent,  she  had  grasped  un- 
consciously, flying  oft'  diagonally  past  her  mother's  head, 
and  fortunately  past  the  head  of  her  mother's  left-hand 
neighbor. 

Poor  'Lina  !  How  she  wished  she  might  never  get  up 
again.  How  she  hoped  the  floor  beneath  would  open  and 
swallow  her  up,  and  how  she  mentally  anathematized  the 
careless  negro,  choking  with  suppressed  laughter  behind 
lier.  As  she  struggled  to  arise  she  was  vaguely  conscious 
that  a  white  hand  was  stretched  out  to  help  her,  that  the 
game  hand  smoothed  her  dress  and  held  her  chair 
safely.  Too  much  chagrined  to  think  who  it  was  render 
ing  her  these  little  attentions,  she  took  her  seat,  glancing 
up  and  down  the  table  to  witness  the  eflect  of  hei 
mishap. 


130  HUGH    WORTHINGTON. 

There  was  a  look  of  consternation  on  Dr.  Richards 
face,  but  he  was  too  well  bred  to  laugh,  or  even  to  smile, 
though  there  was  a  visible  <lesire  to  do  so,  an  expression, 
which  'Lina  construed  into  contempt  for  her  awkwardness, 
and  then  he  went  on  with  his  previous  occupation,  that 
of  crumbling  his  bread  and  scanning  the  ladies  near,  while 
wailing  for  the  next  course.  There  was  also  a  look  of  ' 
BUi-prise  in  the  face  of  the  lady  next  to  him,  and  then  she 
too  occupied  herself  with  something  else. 

At  first,  'Lina  thought  nothing  could  keep  her  tears 
bask,  they  gathered  so  fiist  in  her  eyes,  and  her  voice 
trembled  so  that  she  could  not  answer  the  servant's  ques- 
tion, 

"  Soup,  madam,  soup?" 

But  he  of  the  white  hand  did  it  for  her. 

"  Of  course  she'll  take  soup,"  then  in  an  aside,  he  said 
to  her  gently,  "Never  mind,  you  are  not  the  first  lady 
who  has  been  served  in  that  way.  It's  quite  a  common 
occurrence."  There  was  something  reassuring  in  his  voice, 
and  turning  toward  him  'Lina  caught  the  gleam  of  the 
golden  glasses,  and  knew  that  her  vis-a-vis  up  stairs  was 
also  her  right-hand  neighbor.  How  grateful  she  felt  for 
his  kind  attentions,  paid  so  delicately,  and  with  an  evi- 
dent desire  to  shield  her  from  remark,  and  how  she  won- 
dered who  he  was,  as  he  tried,  by  numberless  unobtrusive 
acts,  to  quiet  her. 

Kind  and  gentle  as  a  woman,  Irving  Stanley  was  some- 
times laughed  at  by  his  own  sex,  as  too  gentle,  too 
feminine  in  disposition  ;  but  those  who  knew  him  best 
loved  him  most,  and  loved  him,  too,  just  because  he  was 
not  so  stern,  so  harsh,  so  overbearing  as  men  are  wont  to  be, 
A  >voinan  was  a  sacred  piece  of  mechanism  to  him  —  a 
pomething  to  be  petted,  humored  and  caressed,  and  still 
treated  as  an  equal.  The  most  considerate  of  sons,  tlie 
most  afiTectionate  of  brothers,  he  was  idolized  at  iiome, 
while  the  society  in   which  he  mingled,  knew  no  greater 


SA.RATOGA.  131 

favorite,  and  'Lma  might  well  be  thankful  that  her  lot  was 
cast  so  near  him.  He  did  not  talk  to  her  at  the  table  fur- 
ther than  a  few  commonplace  remarks,  but  when  after 
dinner  was  over,  and  his  Havana  smoked,  he  found  her 
sit4,ing  with  her  mother  out  in  the  grove,  apart  from 
everybody,  and  knew  that  they  were  there  alone,  he 
went  to  them,  and  ere  many  minutes  had  elapsed  discovered 
to  his  surprise  that  they  were  his  so  called  cousins  from 
Kentucky.  Nothing  could  exceed  'Lina's  delight.  He 
was  there  unfettered  by  mother  or  sister  or  sweetheart, 
and  of  course  would  attach  himself  exclusively  to  her. 
'Lina  was  very  happy,  and  more  than  once  her  loud  laugh 
rang  out  so  loud  that  Irving,  with  all  his  charity,  had  a 
faint  suspicion  that  round  his  Kentucky  cousin,  there 
might  linger  a  species  of  coarseness,  not  altogether 
agreeable  to  one  of  his  refinement.  Still  he  sat  chatting 
with  her  until  the  knowing  dowagers,  who  year  after  year 
watch  such  things  at  Saratoga,  whispered  behind  their 
fans  of  a  flirtation  between  the  elegant  Mr.  Stanley  and 
that  haughty-looking  girl  from  Kentucky. 

"I  never  saw  him  so  familiar  with  a  stranger  upon  so 
short  an  acquaintance,"  said  Mrs.  Buford,  whose  three 
daughters  would  any  one  of  them  have  exchanged  their 
name  for  Stanley.  "I  wonder  if  he  knew  her  before.  Up- 
on my  word,  that  laugh  of  her's  is  rather  coarse,  let  her 
be  who  she  will."" 

"  Yes,  but  that  silk  never  cost  less  than  three  dollars  a 
yai'd  at  Stewart's.  See  the  lustre  there  is  on  it,"  and  old 
Mrs.  Uichards,  who  had  brought  herself  into  the  field  by 
way  of  assisting  her  son  in  his  campaign,  levelled  her  glass 
at  'Lina's  green  silk,  showing  well  in  the  bright  sunlight 
*'  Here,  John,"  she  called  to  her  son,  who  was  passing 
"can  you  tell  me  who  that  young  lady  is  —  the  one  who 
so  very  awkwardly  sat  down  upon  the  floor  at  dinner?" 

"  I  do  not  know,  and  I  cannot  say  that  I  wish  to,"  was 
the  nonchalant,  reply,  as  the  doctor  took  the  vacant  chair 


132  HUGH   WOBTHINGTON. 

his  mother  had  so  long  been  keeping  for  him.  "  I  hardly 
fancy  her  style.  She's  too  brusque  to  suit  me,  though 
Irving  Stanley  seems  to  find  her  agreeable." 

" Is  that  Irving  Stanley?"  and  Mrs.  Richards  levelled 
h.€r  glass  again,  for  Irving  Stanley  was  not  unknown  to 
her  by  reputation.  "  She  must  be  somebody,  John,  or  be 
would  not  notice  her,"  and  she  spoke  in  an  aside,  adding 
in  a  louder  tone,  ^'  I  wonder  who  she  is.  There's  their  ser- 
vant. I  mean  to  question  her,"  and  as  Lulu  came  near, 
she  said,  "  Girl,  wlio  do  you  belong  to  ?  " 

"  'Longs  to  them,"  jerking  her  head  toward  'Lina  and 
Mrs.  Worthington. 

"  Where  do  you  live  ?  "  was  the  next  query,  and  Lulu 
replied. 

"  Spring  Bank,  Kentucky.  Missus  live  in  big  liouse, 
most  as  big  as  this."  Then  anxious  to  have  the  ordeal 
passed,  and  fearful  that  she  might  not  acquit  herself  satis- 
factorily to  'Lina,  who,  without  seeming  to  notice  her,  had 
drawn  near  enough  to  hear,  slie  added,  "  Miss  'Lina  is  an 

aiVey,  a  very  large   airey^  and   has  a  heap   of — of „ 

Lulu  hardly  knew  what,  but  finally  in  desperation  added, 
"  a  heap  of  ars,"  and  then  fled  away  ere  another  question 
could  be  asked  her. 

"  What  did  she  say  she  was  ? "  Mrs.  Richards  asked, 
and  the  doctor  replied, 

"  She  said  an  airey.     Slie  meant  an  heiress." 
"  Oh,  yes,  an  heiress.     I  don't  doubt  it,  from   her  ap 
pearance,  and  Mr.  Stanley's  attentions.     Stylish  looking 
isn't  she?"  . 

"Rather,  yes  —  magnificent  eyes  at  all  events,"  and  the 
lloctor  stroked  his  mustache  thoughtfully,  while  his  moth- 
er, turning  to  Mrs.  Buford,  began  to  compliment  'Lina  8 
form,  and  the  fit  of  her  dress. 

Money,  or  the  reputation  of  possessing  money,  is  an  all 
powerful  charm,  and  in  a  few  places  does  itsho\*  its  pow- 
er more  plainly  than  at  Saratoga,  where  it  was  soon  known 


SARATOGA.  1 33 

that  the  lady  from  Spring  Bank  was  heiress  to  immense 
wealth  in  Kentucky,  how  immense  nobody  knew,  and  va- 
rious were  the  estimates  put  upon  it.  Among  Mrs.  Bu- 
ford's  clique  it  was  twenty  thousand ;  farther  away  and 
in  another  hall  it  was  fifty,  while  Mrs.  Richards,  ere  the 
Rui)per  hour  arrived,  had  heard  that  it  was  at  least  a  hun- 
dred thousand  dollars.  How  or  where  she  heard  it  she 
hardly  knew,  but  she  endorsed  the  statement  as  correct, 
and  at  the  tea  table  that  night  was  exceedingly  gracious 
to  'Lina  and  her  mother,  offering  to  divide  a  little  private 
dish  which  she  had  ordered  for  herself,  and  into  which 
poor  Mrs.  Worthington  inadvertently  dipped,  never 
dreaming  that  it  was  not  common  property. 

"It  was  not  of  the  slightest  consequence,  Mrs. Richards 
was  delighted  to  share  it  with  her,"  and  that  was  the  way 
the  conversation  commenced. 

'Lina  knew  now  that  the  proud  man  whose  lip  had 
curled  so  scornfully  at  dinner,  was  Dr.  Richards,  and  Dr. 
Richards  knew  that  the  girl  who  sat  on  the  floor  was  'Li- 
na AYorthington,  from  Spring  Bank,  where  Alice  Johnson 
was  going. 

"  I  did  not  gather  from  Mr.  Liston  that  these  Worth- 
ingtons  were  wealthy,"  he  said  to  himself,  "but  if  the  old 
codger  would  deceive  me  with  regard  to  Miss  Johnson,  he 
would  with  regard  to  them,"  and  mentally  resolving  to 
make  an  impression  before  they  could  see  and  talk  with 
Alice,  the  doctor  was  so  polite  that  'Lina  scarcely  knew 
whose  attentions  to  prefer,  his  or  Irving  iStanley's,  who, 
rather  glad  of  a  co-worker,  yielded  the  field  without  a 
Struggle,  and  by  the  time  tea  was  over  the  doctor's  star 
^as  in  the  ascendant. 

How  'Lina  wanted  to  stay  in  the  crowded  parlors,  b\.t 
her  mother  had  so  set  ner  heart  upon  seeing  Alice  John 
6on,  that  she  was  forced  to  humor  her,  and  repaired  to  hci 
room  to  make  a  still  more  elaborate  toilet,  as  she  wished 
to  impress  Miss  Johnson  with  a  sense  of  her  importance, 


134  HUGH    WOETHINGTON. 

A  pale  blue  silk,  with  white  roses  in  her  hair,  was  final- 
ly decided  upon,  and  when,  just  as  the  gas  was  lightedi 
slie  descended  with  her  mother  to  the  parlor,  her  opera 
cloak  thrown  gracefully  around  her  uncovered  shoulders, 
and  Ellen  TifFton's  glass  in  her  hand,  she  had  the  satisfac- 
tion of  knowing  that  she  created  quite  a  sensation,  and 
tl  at  others  than  Dr.  Richards  looked  after  her  admiringly 
as  she  swept  through  the  room,  followed  by  her  mother 
and  JJulu^  the  latter  of  whom  was  answering  no  earthly 
f  urpose  save  to  show  that  they  had  a  servant. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


THE    COLUMBIAX. 


It  was  very  quiet  at  the  Columbian,  and  the  few  gen- 
tlemen seated  upon  the  piazza  seemed  to  be  of  a  different 
stamp  from  those  at  the  more  fashionable  houses,  as  there 
were  none  of  them  smoking,  nor  did  they  stare  imperti- 
nently at  the  gayly  dressed  lady  coming  up  the  steps, 
and  inquiring  of  the  clerk  if  Miss  Alice  Johnson  were 
there. 

"  Yes,  she  was,  and  her  room  was  Xo.  — .  Should  he 
send  up  the  lady's  card?  Miss  Johnson  had  mostly  kept 
her  room." 

'Lina  had  brought  no  card,  but  she  gave  her  name  and 
passed  on  into  the  parlor,  which  afforded  a  striking  con 
trast  to  the  bee-hive  down  town.  In  a  corner  two  or 
three  were  sitting  ;  another  group  occupied  a  window 
while  at  the  piano  were  two  more,  an  old  and  a  young 
lady ;  the  latter  of  whom  was  seated  upon  the  stool,  and 
with  her  foot  upon  the  soft  pedal,  was  alternately  strik- 
ing a  few  sweet  musical  chords,  and  talking  to  her  com- 
panion, who  seemed   to  be  a  servant.     Taking  her  seat 


THE    COLUMBIAN. 


135 


Dear  these  last,  'lana  watched  them  curioasly  ;  a  thought 
once  crossing  her  mind  that  this  nr.ght  be  Alice  Johnson. 
But  no;  AUce,  of  course,  woukl   be  habited  in    deepest 
black,  while  the  dress  tbis  lady  wore  was  a  simple,  pure 
white,  unrelieved  by  any  color  save  tbe  jot  bracelets  upon 
the  snowy  arms  and  the  jet  pin  at  the  throat.     This  wnf^ 
not  Alice  sure,  and  she  felt  glad  to  know  it,  for  she  would 
rather  that  Alice  Johnson  should  be  a  shade  less  lovely 
than  the  young  girl  before   her.     How   dazzling  she  was 
in  her  radiant  beauty,  with   all  that  wealth   of  chestnut 
hair  shadino-  her  fair  brow  and  foiling  almost  to  her  waist ; 
but  the  soft,  dreamy  eyes  of  blue,  with  their  long  silken 
lashes,  were  to  'Lina  the  chief  attraction.     None,  could 
withstand  those  eyes,  now  cast  down  upon  the  keys  as 
if  heavy   with  unshed   tears,  and   now   upraised   to  the 
woman  beside  her  who  appeared  to  regard  her  with  a  spe- 
cies  of  adoration,  occasionally   laying  her  hand  caress- 
ingly upon  the  sunny  hair,  and  letting  it  slide  down  until 
it  rested  upon  the  shoulder. 

As  the  minutes  went  by  'Lina  grew  very  impatient  at 
Alice's  long  delay. 

« I  mean  to  ring,"  she  said,  just  as  the  servant  to  whom 
she  had  delivered  her  messnge  appeared. 

Very  haughtily  'Lina  asked  if  he  had  found  Miss.  John- 
son. "If  she's  not  in,  we  don't  care  to  stay  here  all 
night,"  she  said,  angrily,  whereupon  she  became  conscious 
that  the  blue  eyes  of  the  lady  were  fixed  inqumngly 
upon  her,  as  if  wondering  how  a  well  bred  person  could 
betray  so  much  ill  nature. 

«  Miss  Johnson?  I  beg  pardon,  I  supposed  you  kncNt 
her  and  had  found  her,  as  she  was  in  here.  This  is  Misa 
Johnson,"  and  the  waiter  bowed  toward  the  musician, 
who,  quick  as  thought  seized  upon  the  truth,  and  sprmg- 
ino-  to  Mrs.  Worthington's  side,  exclaimed, 

°at^s  Mrs.  Worthington,  I  know.  Why  did  you  sit 
here  so  long  without  speaking  to  me  ?  I  am  Alice  John- 
■on,"  and  overcome  with  emotions  awakened  by  the  sight 


136  HUGH    TVORTIIINGTON. 

of  her  mother's  early  friend,  Alice  hid  her  face  with  child- 
like confidence  in  Mrs.  Worthington's  bosom,  and  sobbed 
for  a  moment  bitterly. 

Then  growing  calm,  she  lifted  up  her  head,  and  smil- 
ing through  her  tears,  said, 

"  Forgive  me  for  this  introduction.  It  is  not  often  I 
give  way,  fbr  I  know  and  am  sure  it  was  best  and  right 
that  mother  should  die.  I  am  not  rebellious  now,  but  the 
sight  of  you  brought  it  back  so  vividly.  You'll  be  my 
mother,  won't  you  ?  "  and  the  impulsive  girl  nestled  clos- 
er to  Mrs.  Worthington,  looking  up  into  her  face  with  a 
confiding  affection  which  won  a  place  for  her  at  once  in 
Mrs.  Worthington's  heart. 

"My  darling,"  she  said,  winding  her  arm  around  her 
waist,  "  as  far  as  I  can  I  will  be  to  you  a  mother,  and 
ISina  shall  be  your  sister.  This  is  'Lina,  and  she  turned 
to  'Lina,  who,  piqued  at  having  been  so  long  unnoticed^ 
was  frowning  gloomily. 

But  'Lina  never  met  a  glance  purer  or  more  free  from 
guile  than  that  which  Alice  gave  h^r  and  it  disanned  her 
at  once  of  all  jealousy,  making  her  return  the  orphan's 
kisses  with  as  much  apparent  cordiality  as  they  had  been 
given. 

Sitting  down  beside  them  Alice  made  many  inquiries 
concerning  Kentucky,  startling  them  with  theanouncement 
that  as  she  had  that  day  received  a  letter  from  Col. 
Tiffion,  who  she  believed  was  a  friend  of  theirs,  urging 
her  to  come  on  at  once,  and  spend  a  few  weeks  with 
him,  she  had  about  decided  to  do  so,  and  only  waited  for 
^Mrs.  Worthington's  advice  ere  answering  the  colond'a 
hendly  letter.  They  heard  from  you  what  were  mother's 
3lans  for  my  future,  and  also  that  I  was  to  meet  y:»a 
here.  They  must  be  very  thoughtful  people,  foi  they 
seem  to  know  that  I  cannot  be  very  happy  here." 

For  a  moment,  'Lina  and  her  mother  looked  aghast,  and 
neither  knew  what  to  say.    'Lina,  as  usual,  was  the  first 


THE    COLUMBIAN.  137 

to  rally  and  calculate  results.  Had  Alice  been  less  beauti 
ful  she  would  have  opposed  her  going  to  Colonel  Tiffton'a 
where  she  might  possibly  hear  something  unfavorable  of 
herself  from  Ellen,  but,  as  it  was,  it  might  be  well  enough 
to  net  rid  of  her,  as  she  was  sure  to  prove  a  most  formid- 
able rival.  Thus  it  was  pure  selfishness  which  prompted 
her  to  adopt  the  most  politic  course  which  presented  it 
self  to  her  mind. 

"  They  were  very  intimate  at  Colonel  Tifilon's.  She 
and  Ellen  were  fast  friends.  It  was  very  pleasant  there 
more  so  than  at  Spring  Bank ;  and  all  the  objection  she 
could  see  to  Alice's  going  was  the  fear  lest  she  should  be- 
come so  much  attached  to  Moss  Side,  the  colonel's  resi- 
dence, as  to  be  homesick  at  Spring  Bank." 

Against  this  Alice  disclaimed  at  once.  She  was  not 
apt  to  be  homesick.  She  had  made  up  her  mind  to  be 
happy  at  Spring  Bank,  and  presumed  she  should. 

"  I  am  so  glad  you  approve  my  plan,  for  my  heart  is 
really  set  on  going,"  and  she  turned  to  Mrs.  Worthington, 
who  had  not  spoken  yet. 

It  was  not  what  she  had  expected,  and  she  hardly  knew 
what  to  say,  though,  of  course,  "  she  should  acquiesce  in 
whatever  Alice  and  'Lina  thought  best." 

"  If  she's  going,  I  hope  she'll  go  before  Dr.  Richards 
sees  her,  though  perhaps  he  knows  her  already  —  hia 
mother  lives  in  Snowdon,"  'Lina  thought,  and  rather 
abruptly  she  asked  if  Alice  knew  Dr.  Richards,  who  was 
staying  at  the  Union. 

Alice  blushed  crimson  as  she  replied, 
'     "Yes,  I  know  him  well,  and  his  family,  too. 

«  His  mother  is  here,"  'Lina  continued,  "  and  I  like  her 
13  mucn.     She  is  very  familiar  and  friendly,  don't  you 
■  think  so  ?  " 

Alice  would  not  tell  a  lie,  and  she  answered  frankly, 

"She  does  not  bear  that  name  in  Snowdon.  They 
consider  her  very  haughty  there.  I  think  you  must  be  a 
CvoriV"" 


138  HUGH   WOETHINGTON. 

"  Are  they  very  aristocratic  and  wealthy  ?  "  'Lina  asked, 
and  Alice  answered, 

"Aristocratic,  but  not  wealthy.  They  were  very  kind 
to  me,  and  the  doctor's  sister  Anna  is  one  of  the  sweetest 
ladies  I  ever  knew."  Then  as  if  anxious  to  change  the 
conversation  she  spoke  of  Hugh.  Where  was  he  now  ? 
How  did  he  look,  and  should  she  like  him  ? 

Lina  and  her  mother  exchanged  rapid  glances,  and 
then,  in  spite  of  the  look  of  entreaty  visible  on  Mrs.  Wor- 
thington's  face,  'Lina  replied, 

"  To  be  candid  with  you.  Miss  Johnson,  I'm  afraid  you 
won't  like  Hugh.  He  has  many  good  traits,  but  I'm  sor- 
ry to  say  we  have  never  succeeded  in  cultivating  him  one 
particle,  so  that  he  is  very  rough  aaid  boorish  in  his  man- 
ner, and  will  undoubtedly  strike  you  unfavorably.  I  may 
as  well  tell  you  of  this,  as  you  will  probably  hear  it  from 
Ellen  Tiffton,  and  must  know  it  when  you  see  him.  He 
is  not  popular  with  the  ladies  ;  he  hates  them  all,  unless 
it  is  a  Mrs.  Hastings,  whom  he  took  in  from  the  street." 

Alice  looked  up  inquiringly,  while  'Lina  began  to  tell 
her  of  Adah.  She  had  not  proceeded  far,  however,  when 
with  a  cry  of  terror  she  sprang  up  as  a  large  beetle,  attract- 
ed by  the  light,  fastened  itself  upon  her  hair. 

Mrs.  Worthington  was  the  first  to  the  rescue,  while  Lu- 
lu, who  had  listened  with  flashing  eye  when  Hugh  was 
the  subject  of  remark,  came  laggardly,  whispering  slily  to 
Alice, 

"  That's  a  lie  she  done  tell  you  about  Mas'r  Hugh.  He 
ain't  rough  nor  bad,  and  we  blacks  would  die  for  him  any 
day." 

Alice  was  confounded  by  this  flat  contradiction  between 
mistress  and  servant,  while  a  faint  glimmer  of  the  truth 
began  to  dawn  upon  her.  The  "  horn-bug"  being  dispos- 
ed of,  'Lina  became  quiet,  and  might,  perhaps,  have  taken 
up  Hugh  again,  but  for  a  timely  interruption  in  the  shape 
of  Irving  Stanley,  who  had  walked  up  to  the  Columbian, 


THE    COLUMBIAN.  139 

and  seeing  'Lina  and  her  mother  througu  the  window, 

sauntered  leisurely  into  the  parlor. 

"  Ah,  Mr.  Stanley,"  and  'Lina  half  rose  from  her  chair, 
thus  intimating  that  he  was  to  join  them.  "Miss  John- 
son, Mr.  Stanley,"  and  she  watched  jealously  to  see  what 
eftect  Alice's  beauty  would  have  upon  the  young  man. 

He  was  evidently  pleased,  and  this  was  a  sufficient  rea- 
son for  'Lina  to  speak  of  returning.  She  would  not  has- 
ten Mr.  Stanley,  she  said,  but  Irving  arose  at  once  and 
bidding  Alice  good  night,  accompanied  the  ladies  back  to 
Union  hall,  where  Mrs.  Richards  sat  fanning  herself  in- 
dustiiousl/,  and  watching  John  with  motherly  interest  as 
he  sauntered  from  one  group  of  ladies  to  another,  won- 
dering what  made  Saratoga  so  dull,  and  where  Miss  Wor- 
thington  had  gone.  It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  Dr. 
Richards  cared  a  fig  for  Miss  Worthington  as  Miss  Wbr- 
t?d)igton.  It  was  simply  her  immense  figure  he  admired, 
and  as,  during  the  evening,  he  had  heard  on  good  au- 
thority that  said  figure  was  made  up  mostly  of  cotton 
growing  on  some  Southern  field,  the  exact  locality  of 
which  his  informant  did  not  know,  he  had  decided  that  of 
course  Miss  'Lina's  fortune  was  over  estimated.  Such 
things  always  were,  but  still  she  must  be  wealthy.  He 
had  no  doubt  of  that,  and  he  might  as  well  devote  him- 
self to  her  as  to  wait  for  some  one  else.  Accordingly,  the 
moment  he  spied  her  in  the  crowd  he  joined  her,  asking 
if  they  should  not  take  a  little  turn  up  and  down  the  pi- 
azza. 

«  Wait  till  I  ask  mamma's  permission  to  stay  up  a  litr 
tie  longer.  She  always  insists  upon  my  keeping  such  ear  ^ 
ly  hours,"  was  'Lina's  very  filial  and  childlike  reply  ag 
she  walked  up  to  mamma,  not  to  ask  permission,  but  to 
whisper  rather  peremptorily,  "  Dr.  Richards  wishes  ae  to 
W4ilk  with  him,  and  as  you  are  tired  you  may  as  well  go  to 
bed." 

Mrs.    Worthington  was    tired,    but    motherlike,    she 


140  HUGH    WOETIIINGTON. 

thought  it  would  be  pleasant  to  stay  where  she  could  see 
her  daughter  walking  with  Dr.  Ricliards,  and  then,  too, 
she  wanted  to  hear  the  band  playing  in  the  court. 

"  Oh,  I  ain't  very  tired,"  she  said.  "  I  begin  to  feel  rest- 
ed, and  I  guess  I'll  set  a  little  while  with  Mrs.  Richards 
on  the  sofa  yonder.     She  seems  like  one  of  our  folks." 

'Lina  did  not  care  to  leave  her  truthful,  matter  ol-f'ict 
mother  with  Mrs.  Richards,  so  she  said,  rather  angrily, 

"  How  do  you  know  Mrs.  Richards  wants  you  to  sit  by 
her  ?  She  has  her  own  set,  and  you  are  not  much  acquaint- 
ed ;  besides,  I  shall  feel  easier  to  know  you  are  up  staii-s. 
Go,  do.  He's  waiting  for  me,"  and  in  the  blacl^  eyes  there 
was  a  gleam  which  Mrs.  Worthington  always  obeyed. 

With  a  sigh,  and  a  lingering  glance  at  the  comfortable 
sofa,  where  Mrs.  Richards  sat  in  solemn  state,  she  left  the 
camparatively  cool  parlor,  and  climbing  the  weary  flights 
of  stairs,  entered  her  hot,  sultry  room,  and  laying  her  head 
upon  the  table,  cried  a  grieved  kind  of  cry,  as  she  recalled 
Tina's  selfishness  and  evident  desire  to  be  rid  of  her. 

"  She's  ashamed  of  me,"  and  the  chin  quivered  as  the 
white  lips  whispered  it.  "  She  wants  me  out  of  the  way 
for  fear  I'll  do  something  to  mortify  her.  Oh,  'Lina,  'Lina, 
I'm  glad  I've  got  one  child  who  is  not  ashamed  of  his 
mother,"  and  the  tears  dropped  like  rain  upon  the  table,  as 
Mrs.  Worthington  remembered  Hugh,  longing  for  him  so 
much,  and  reproaching  herself  so  bitterly  for  having  con, 
sented  to  receive  Alice  Johnson  without  even  consulting 
him.  "I'll  write  to-night,"  she  said.  "I'll  confess  the 
whole,"  and  glad  of  something  to  occupy  her  mind,  Mi-s. 
Worthington  took  out  her  writing  materials,  and  com- 
menced the  letter,  which  should  have  been  written  long 
before. 

Meantime  the  doctor  and  'Lina  were  walking  up  and 
down  the  long  piazza,  chatting  gayly,  and  attracting  much 
attention  fi'om  'Lina's  loud  manner  of  talking  and  laugh 
ing. 


THE    COLUMBIAN.  141 

"  By  the  way,  IVe  called  on  Miss  Johnson,  at  the  Co 
(umbian,"  she  said.     "  Beautiful,  isn't  she  ?  " 

"Ra-ather  pretty,  some  would  think,"  and  the  doctor 
had  an  uncomfortable  consciousness  of  the  refusal,  in  his 
vest  pocket. 

If  Alice  had  told ;  but  no,  he  knew  her  better  than  that  - 
He  could  trust  hor  on  that  score,  and  so  the  dastardlj 
coward  affected  to  sneer  at  what  he  called  her  primness, 
charging  'Lina  to  be  careful  what  she  did,  if  she  did 
not  want  a  lecture,  and  asking  if  there  were  any  ragged 
children  in  Kentucky,  as  she  would  not  be  happy  unless 
she  was  running  a  Sunday  school ! 

"  She  can  teach  the  negroes  !  Capital ! "  and  'Lina 
laughed  so  loudly  that  Mrs.  Richards  joined  them,  laugh- 
ing, too,  at  what  she  did  not  know,  only  "  Miss  Worthing- 
ton  had  such  spirits ;  it  did  one  good  ;  and  she  wished  An- 
na was  there  to  be  enlivened.  Write  to  her  John,  won't 
you  ?  " 

John  mentally  thought  it  doubtful.  Anna  and  'Lina 
would  never  assimilate,  and  he  would  rather  not  have  his 
pet  sister's  opinion  to  combat  until  his  own  was  fully  made 
up. 

As  it  was  growing  rather  late  Mrs.  Richards  ere  long 
expressed  a  wish  to  retire,  and   hoping  to  see  more  of 
Miss  Worthington  to-morrow,  she  bowed  good  night,  and  » 
left  the  doctor  alone  with  'Lina. 

But,  somehow,  he  did  not  get  on  well  without  his  moth- 
er. There  was  nothing  in  common  between  himself  and 
Tjina,  ex^.ept  deception.  She  had  read  but  little,  and 
only  talked  well  on  commonplace  matters,  of  which  he-^ 
loon  grew  tired.  But  she  was  rich,  and  perfectly  willing 
lo  be  admired  by  him,  so  he  put  aside  liis  weariness,  and 
chatted  v\-ith  her  until  the  parlors  were  deserted,  and  the 
servants  came  to  extinguish  some  of  tlie  burners. 

"  She  had  no  idea  it  was  so  late,  or  she  would  not  have 
Staid  for  anything.     He  must  excuse  her.     What  would 


142  HUGH   WORTHINGTON. 

mamma  think  ?  "  and  bidding  him  good  nighty  'Lina  hnr 
ried  up  to  where  mamma  sat  waiting  for  her,  the  traces 
of  tears  still  on  her  patient  face,  which  looked  white  and 
worn. 

"  In  the  name  of  the  people,  what  are  you  sitting  up 
f  »r?"  was  Lina's  first  remark,  followed  by  a  glowing  ac- 
count of  what  Dr.  Richards  had  said,  and  the  delightfui 
lime  she'd  had.  "Only  play  our  cards  well,  and  I'm  sure 
to  go  home  the  doctor's  Jiancee.  The  doctor  thinks  I'm 
very  rich.  So  do  all  the  people  here.  Lulu  has  told  that 
I'm  an  heiress ;  now  don't  you  upset  it  all  with  youi 
squeamishness  about  the  truth.  Nobody  will  ask  you 
how  much  I'm  worth,  so  you  won't  be  compelled  to  a  lie 
direct.  Just  keep  your  own  counsel,  and  leave  the  rest  to 
me.     Will  you?" 

There  was,  as  usual,  a  feeble  remonstrance,  and  then 
the  weak  woman  yielded  so  far  as  promising  to  keep 
silent  was  concerned,  but  she  asked  timidly, 

"  What  will  you  do  if  you  succeed  ?  He  must  then 
know  how  you've  deceived  him." 

"  Humph  !    so  far,  it  will  be  an  easy  thing. 

"  He  thinks  I  am  rich,  and  I  am  supposed  to  think  he 
is.  It's  no  thanks  to  him  that  I  know  better.  But  they 
are  very  aristocratic,  and  fimily  position  is  sometmies 
better  than  money.  On  the  whole,  I  prefer  it  to  wealth. 
"  It  will  be  something  in  this  wise,"  she  continued ;  "  after 
the  honeymoon  is  past,  and  my  lord  heai's  nothing  about 
bank  stock,  negroes  or  lands,  he'll  come  straight  out,  and 
say,  '  Mrs.  Richards,  I  supposed  you  were  rich ! '  while . 
iMrs.  Richards  would  retort,  *  And  I  thought  you  were 
jich ! '  Don't  you  see,  it  will  be  an  equal  thing,  and 
I  shall  take  my  chance." 

Meantime  the  doctor  sat  in  his  own  room  near  by, 
thinking  of  'Lina  Worthington,  and  wishing  she  were  a 
little  more  refined. 

"  Where  does  she  get  that  coarseness  ?  "  he  thought 


THE    COI^UMBIAN.  ^^^ 


«  Not  from  her  mother,  certainly.  She  seems  very  geBtle 
.nTldVlike  Itmustbefromthe  Worthmgtons,'  mid 
^e  doctor  wondered  where  he  had  heard  that  name  be- 
fore Tnd  why  it  affected  him  rather  unpleasantly,  bnng- 
tore,  ana  wuy  sighed 

incr  with  it  memories  of  Lily.       looii^nj,  = 

mentally.  "Your  love  would  have  made  me  a  bet  er 
Tan  f  I  had  not  cast  it  from  me.  Dear  Lily,  the  n.oth- 
Tof  my  child,"  and  a  tear  half  trembled  in  his  eye  lash- 
e  ,  as  Z  tried  to  foncy  that  child  ,  :ned  to  hear  the  pat- 
te;  of  the  little  feet  running  to  welcome  him  home,  as 
they  mi<'ht  have  done  had  he  been  true  to  Ldy ;  tried  to 
Lear  The^baby  voice  calling  him  "  papa  ; "  to  feel  the  baby 
hands  upon  his  foce-his  bearded  face  -  where  the 
g  eat  te  rs  were  standing  now.  "I  cfic  love  Lily,"  he 
murmured;  "and  hadi known  of  the  child  I  never  coi^d 
have  lea  her.  Oh,  Lily,  come  back  to  "-,  come  nd 
his  arms  were  stretched  out  into  empty  space,  as  if  hefa  n 
would  encircle  again  the  girlish  form  he  had  so  often  held 

'^";^v:rTlate  d.  D.  Richards  slept  that  night,  and 
the   morning     found    him    pale,   haggard,    and    nearly 
desperate.    Thoughts  of  Lily  all  were  gone  and  ,n  their 
place  was  a  fixed  determination  to  follow  on  in  the  course 
thad  marked  out,  to  find  him  a  rich  witj-  to  cast  remo. 
to  the  winds,  and  be  as  happy  as  he  coul.l     In  this  state 
of  eelin.  'L  na  did  not  find  it  hard  to  keep  him  at  her  side 
nothwith^tandin..   that  Mice  herself  came  down  in  the 
"re  of  the  d^y.    Mrs.  Richards  had  not  quite  given 
•  n^all  hopes  of  i^ice,  and  she  received  her  very  — r- 
Jatching'  closely   when   the     'doctor jo.ne^    '^'I'J^ 
casual  observer  would  not  have  seen  the  flush  on   Alice . 
Zk  or  the  pallor    upon  his,  so  -n    both  c.ne    an 
passed  away,  but  they  did  not  escape  '^''"^    '^t'^^;; 
Bhe  felt  glad  when  told  that  she   intended   staitmg  for 
Kentucky  on  the  morrow .  „ti,;,>„  lika 

"So  soon,"  she  said  faintly,  feeling  that  something  like 


144  HUGH    WORTIIINGTON. 

remonstrance  was  expected  from  her,  but  Alice  was  not 
in  the  least  suspicious,  and  when  next  day  she  stood  at  the 
depot  with  Mrs.  Wortliington  and  'Lina  she  never  dreamed 
how  glad  the  latter  was,  in  knowing  that  the  coming 
ti'^in  would  take  away  one  whom  she  dreaded  as  a  rival. 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

HUGH. 

An  unexpected  turn  in  Hugh's  affairs  made  it  no  longer 
necessary  for  him  to  remain  in  the  sultry  climate  of  New 
Orleans,  and  just  one  week  from  his  mother's  departure 
from  Spring  Bank  he  reached  it,  expressing  unbounded 
surprise  when  he  heard  from  Aunt  Eunice  where  his 
mother  had  gone,  and  how  she  had  gone. 

"  Fool  and  his  money  soon  parted,"  Hugh  said, 

"  But  who  is  that  woman, —  the  one  who  sent  the 
money?" 

"  A  Mrs.  Johnson,  an  old  friend  of  your  mother," 
Aunt  Eunice  replied,  while  Hugh  looked  up  quickly, 
wondering  why  the  Johnsons  should  be  so  continually 
thrust  upon  him,  when  the  only  Johnson  for  whom  he 
cared  was  dead  years  ago. 

"And  the  young  lady — what  about  her?"  he  asked, 
while  Aunt  Eunice  told  him  the  little  she  knew,  which 
was  that  Mrs.  Johnson  wished  her  daughter  to  come  to 
Spring  Bank,  but  she  did  not  know  what  they  had  con 
eluded  upon. 

"That  she  should  not  come,  of  course,"  Hugh  said. 
**  They  had  no  right  to  give  her  a  home  without  my  con- 
gent,  and  I've  plenty  of  young  ladies  at  Spring  Bank  now. 
Oh,  it  was  such  a  relief  when  I  was  gone  to  know  that  in 


HUGH.  145 

all  New  Orleans  there  was  not  a  single  hoop  annoyed  on 
my  account.  I  had  a  glorious  time  doing  as  I  pleased  " 
and  helping  his  aunt  to  mount  the  horse  which  had  brought 
her  to  Spring  Bank,  Hugh  returned  to  the  house,  whicli 
seemed  rather  lonely,  notwithstanding  that  he  had  so  of 
ten  wished  he  could  once  more  be  alone,  just  as  he  waa 
before  his  mother  came.  * 

On  the  whole,  however,  he  enjoyed  his  freedom  from  re- 
straint, and  very  rapidly  fell  back  into  his  old  loose  way 
of  living,  bringing  his  dogs  into  the  parlor,. and  making  it 
a  repository  for  both  his  hunting  and  fishing  apparatus. 

"  It's  splendid  to  do  as  I'm  a  mind  to,"  he  said,  one  hot 
August  morning,  nearly-  three  weeks  after  his  mother's  de- 
parture, as  with  his  box  of  worms  upon  the  music  stool, 
in  the  little  room  which  'Lina  claimed  as  exclusively  her 
own,  he  8at  mending  his  long  fish  line,  whistling  merrily, 
and  occasionally  thrusting  back  from  his  forehead  the  mass 
of  curling  hair,  which  somewhat  obstructed  his  vision. 

Around  him  upon  the  floor  lay  half  a  dozen  dogs,  some 
asleep,  and  others  eyeing  his  movements  curiously,  as  if 
they  knew  and  appreciated  what  he  was  doino-. 

"  There  isn't  a  finer  lot  of  dogs  in  Kentucky,"  soliloquiz- 
ed the  young  man,  as  he  ran  his  eye  over  them ;  « but 
wouldn't  my  lady  at  Saratoga  rave  if  she  knew  I'd  taken 
her  boudoir  for  a  kennel,  and  kept  my  bootjack,  my  black, 
ing  brush,  and  Sunday  shirts  al]  on  her  piano  !  Good  place 
for  them,  so  handy  to  get  at,  though  I  don't  suppose  it's 
quite  the  thing  to  live  so  like  a  savage.  Halloo,  Mug,  what 
do  you  want  ?  "  he  asked,  as  a  little  mulatto  girl  appeared 
ia  the  door.  . 

"  C/laib  done  buy  you  this  yer,"  and  the  child  handed 
him  the  letter  from  his  mother,  which  had  been  to  New 
Orleans  was  forwarded  from  there. 

The  first  of  it  was  full  of  afiection  for  her  boy,  and  Hugh 
ielt  his  heart  growing  very  tender  as  he  read,  but  when 
he  reached  the  point  where  poor,  timid  Mr&Worthington 
7 


146  HUGH    WORTHINGTON. 

tried  to  explain  about  Alice,  making  a  wretched  bungle, 
and  showing  plainly  how  much  she  was  swayed  by  'Lina,  it 
began  to  harden  at  once. 

"  What  the  plague ! "  he  exclaimed  as  he  read  on, 
"  Supposes  I  remember  having  heard  her  speak  of  her  old 
school  friend,  Alice  Morton?  I  don't  remember  any  such 
thing.  Her  daughter's  name's  Alice  —  Alice  Johnson^* 
and  Hugh  for  an  instant  turned  white,  so  powerfully  thai 
name  always  affected  him. 

Soon  rallying,  however,  he  continued,  "  Heiress  to  fifty 
thousand  dollars.  Unfortunate  Alice  Johnson !  better  be 
lying  beside  the  Golden  Haired  ;  but  what  I  actually  com- 
ing to  Spring  Bank,  a  girl  worth  fifty  thousand,  the  most 
refined,  most  elegant,  most  beautiful  creature  that  ever 
was  born,  coming  where  Zam,  without  my  consent,  too! 
That's  cool  upon  my  word  ! "  and  for  a  moment  Hugh 
went  off  in  a  towering  passion,  declaring  "  he  wouldn't 
stand  it,  and  bringing  his  foot  down  upon  the  little  bare 
toes  of  Muggins,  crouched  upon  the  floor  beside  him. 

Her  loud  outcry  brought  him  to  himself,  and  after  quiet- 
ing her  as  well  as  he  could,  he  finished  his  mother's  letter, 
chafing  terribly  at  the  thought  of  a  strange  young  lady  be- 
ing thrust  upon  him  whether  he  would  have  her  or  not. 

"She  is  going  to  Colonel  Tiffton's  first,  though  they've 
all  got  the  typhoid  fever,  I  hear,  and  that's  no  place  for 
her.  That  fever  is  terrible  on  Northerners  —  terrible  on 
anybody.  I'm  afraid  of  it  myself,  and  I  wish  this  horrid 
throbbing  I've  felt  for  a  few  days  would  leave  my  head. 
It  has  a  fever  feel  that  1  don't  like,"  and  the  young  man 
^pressed  his  hand  against  his  temples,  trying  to  beat  back 
ihe  pain  which  so  much  annoyed  him. 

Just  then  Colonel  Tiffton  was  announced,  his  face  wear- 
ing an  anxious  look,  and  his  voice  trembling  as  he  told 
how  sick  his  Nell  was,  how  sick  they  all  were,  and  then 
spoke  of  Alice  Johnson. 

"She's  the  same  girl  I  told  you  about  the  day  I  bought 


HTTGH.  147 

Rocket;  some  little  kin  to  me,  and  that  makes  it  queer 
why  her  mother  shouhl  leave  her  to  you.  I  knew  she 
would  not  be  happy  at  Saratoga,  and  so  we  wi'ote  for  hei 
to  visit  us.  She  is  on  the  road  now,  will  be  here  day  af- 
ter to-morrow,  and  something  must  be  done.  Sho  can't 
come  to  us,  without  great  inconvenience  to  ourselves  and 
serious  danger  to  her.  Hugh,  my  boy,  there's  no  other 
way  —  she  must  come  to  Spring  Bank,"  and  the  old  col- 
onel laid  his  hand  on  that  of  Hugh,  who  looked  at  him 
aghast,  but  made  no  immediate  reply. 

He  saw  at  a  glance  that  Alice  could  not  go  to  Moss  Side 
with  impunity,  and  if  not  there  she  must,  of  course  come 
to  Spring  Bank. 

"  What  can  I  do  with  her  ?  Oh,  Colonel,  it  makes  me 
sweat  like  rain  just  to  think  of  it,  and  my  head  thumps 
like  a  mill-hopper,  but,  I  suppose,  there's  no  help  for  it. 
You'll  meet  her  at  the  depot.  You'll  give  her  an  inkling 
of  what  I  am.  You'll  tell  her  what  a  savage  she  m.ay  ex- 
pect to  find,  so  she  won't  go  into  fits  at  sight  of  me." 

"  Yes,  yes,  I'll  fix  it ;  but,  I  thought,  maybe,  you'd  have 
Aunt  Eunice  come  over  till  your  mother's  return.  Wo- 
men are  gossipping  things,  and  they'd  talk  if  she  was  to 
live  here  alone  with  you.  I  tell  you,  she's  handsome ;  and 
if  I's  you,  I'd  be  a  little  good,  that  is,  I  wouldn't  walk  the 
lots  Sundays,  but  go  to  church  instead." 

"  I  always  do,  sir,"  and  Hugh  spoke  quickly,  for  slowly, 
surely,  Adah  Hastings  was  influencing  him  for  good, 
and  more  changes  than  one  were  already  apparent  in 
him. 

'  "  That's  right,"  rejoined  the  colonel.  "  Going  to  church 
is  well  enough  for  them  that  like  it,  which  I  can't  say  I 
hj,  but  I'll  see  her,  I'll  meet  her;  I'll  tell  her.  Good  bye, 
my  bov.  Now,  I  think  of  it,  you  look  mighty  nigh  sick. 
Yom-  face  is  as  red  as  a  beetle,  and  eyes  kind  of  blood 
shot.     The  very  way  my  wife  looked.     Are  you  sick  ?  " 


148  HUGH    WORTHnfGTON. 

"  No,  not  8ick,  but  this  hot  weather  affects  my  head 
which  feels  much  as  if  there  were  a  snare-drum  inside." 

"  No,  that  ain't  the  symptom.  My  wife's  felt  like  a  bum 
ble-bee's  nest.  You  are  all  right  if  you'll  take  an  emetic, 
a  good  big  one,  such  as  will  turn  your  stomach  inside  out. 
Good  bye  —  Nelly's  awful  sick.  Struck  to  her  brain  last 
night,  Good  bye.  I  wouldn't  lose  Nell  for  a  farm,  if  sho 
is  a  little  gritty,"  and  wringing  Hugh's  hand,  the  colonel 
hurried  off,  leaving  Hugh  to  his  own  reflections. 

"A  pretty  state  of  things,  and  a  pretty  place  to  bring 
a  young  lady,"  he  muttered,  glancing  ruefully  round  the 
room,  and  ennumerating  the  different  articles  he  knew 
were  out  of  place.  "  Fish-worms,  fish-hooks,  fish-lines, 
boot-jack,  boot-blacking,  and  rifle,  to  say  nothing  of  the 
dogs  —  and  me  !" 

The  last  was  said  in  a  tone  as  if  the  me  were  the  most 
objectionable  part  of  the  whole,  as,  indeed,  Hugh  thought 
it  was. 

"  I  wonder  how  I  do  look  to  persons  wholly  unpreju- 
diced !  "  Hugh  said,  and  turning  to  Muggins  he  asked  what 
she  thought  of  him. 

"  I  thinks  you  berry  nice.  I  likes  you  berry  much,"  the 
child  replied,  and  Hugh  continued, 

"  Yes ;  but  how  do  I  look,  I  mean  ?  What  do  I  look 
like,  a  dandy  or  a  scarecrow  ?" 

Muggins  regarded  him  for  a  moment  curiously,  and  then 
replied, 

"  I'se  dunuo  what  kind  of  thing  that  dandy  is,  but  I 
'members  dat  yer   scarecrow    what  Claib  make  out  of 
marsVs  trouse's  and  coat,  an'  put  up  in  de  cherry  tree, 
[thinks   dat   look    like   Mas'r    Hugh  —  yes,  very    much* 
like!" 

Hugh  laughed  long  and  loud,  pinching  Mug's  dusky 
cheek,  and  bidding  her  run  away. 

" Pretty  good,"  he  exclaimed,  A\hen  he  was  left  alone, 
"  Thai's  Mug's  opinion.     Look  like  a  scarecrow      I  mean 


HUGH  149 

to  see  for  myself,"  and  going  into  the  sitting-room,  where 
the  largest  mirror  was  hung,  he  scanned  curiously  the 
figure  which  met  his  view,  even  taking  a  smaller  glass, 
and  holding  it  so  as  to  get  a  sight  of  his  back.  "  Tall, 
oroad-shouldered,  straight,  well  built.  My  form  is  well 
'  .Miough,"  he  said,  "  It's  the  clothes  that  bother.  I  mean 
to  get  some  new  ones.  Then,  as  to  my  face,"  and  Hugh 
turned  himself  around,  "  I  never  thought  of  it  before ; 
but  my  features  are  certainly  regular,  teeth  can't  be  beaten, 
good  brown  skin,  eyes  to  match,  and  a  heaj)  of  curly  hair. 
I'll  be  hanged  if  I  don't  think  I'm  rather  good-looking!  " 
and  with  his  spirits  proportionably  raised,  Hugh  whistled 
merrily  as  he  went  in  quest  of  Aunt  Chloe,  to  whom  he 
imparted  the  startling  information  that  on  the  next  day 
but  one,  a  youiig  lady  was  coming  to  Spring  Bank,  and 
that,  in  the  meantime,  the  house  must  be  cleaned  from 
garret  to  cellar,  and  everything  put  in  order  for  the  ex- 
pected guest. 

With  growing  years.  Aunt  Chloe  had  become  rather 
cross  and  less  inclined  to  work  than  formerly,  frequently 
sighing  for  the  days  when  "  Mas'r  John  didn't  want  no 
clarin'  up,  but  kep'  things  lyin'  handy."  With  her  hands 
on  her  fat  hips  she  stood,  coolly  regarding  Hugh,  who 
was  evidently  too  much  in  earnest  to  be  opposed.  Alice 
was  coming,  and  the  house  must  be  put  in  order. 

Accordingly,  two  hours  afterwards,  there  was  a  strong 
smell  of  soap  suds  arising  from  one  room,  while  from 
another  a  cloud  of  dust  was  issuing,  as  Hugh  himself  bent 
over  the  broOm,  wondering  where  all  that  dirt  came  from, 
inasmuch  as  his  six  dogs  had  only  lain  there  for  a  few 
days  ! 

Aunt  Eunice,  too,  was  pressed  into  the  service,  and 
greatly  against  her  will,  come  to  play  the  hostess  for  Hugh, 
who  drove  both  herself  and  Aunt  Chloe  nearly  distracted 
with  his  orders  and  counter  orders. 

Particularly  was  he  interested  in  what  was  to  be  Alicc>'« 


160  HUGH    WOKTHINGTON. 

room,  sending  for  Adah  to  see  if  it  were  right,  and  would 
be  likely  to  strike  a  young  lady  favorably. 

The  cleaning  and  arranging  v/as  finished  at  last,  and 
^verj-thing  within  the  house  was  as  neat  and  orderly 
as  Aunt  Eunice  and  Adah  could  make  it,  even  Aunt  Chloe 
acknowledging  that  "  things  was  tip-top,"  but  said  "  if^ 
was  no  use  settin'  'em  to  rights  when  Mas'r  Hugh  done 
on-sot  'em  so  quick,"  but  Hugh  promised  to  do  better. 
He  would  turn  over  a  new  leaf ;  so  by  way  of  commence- 
ment, on  the  morning  of  Alice's  expected  arrival  he 
deliberately  rolled  up  his  towel  and  placed  it  under  his 
pillow  instead  of  his  night-shirt,  which  was  hung  con- 
spicuously over  the  wash-stand.  His  boots  were  put 
behind  the  fireboard,  his  every  day  hat  jammed  into  the 
bandbox  where  'Lina  kept  her  winter  bonnet,  and  then, 
satisfied  that  so  far  as  his  room  was  concerned,  every 
thing  was  in  order,  he  descended  the  stairs  and  went  into 
the  garden  to  gather  fresh  flowers  with  which  to  adorn 
Alice's  room.  Hugh  was  fond  of  flowers,  and  two 
beautiful  bouquets  were  soon  arranged  and  placed  in  the 
vases  brought  from  the  parlor  mantel,  while  Muggins, 
who  trotted  beside  him,  watching  his  movements 
and  sometimes  making  suggestions,  was  told  to  see  that 
they  were  freshly  watered,  and  not  allowed  to  stand 
where  the  sun  could  shine  on  them,  as  they  might  fade 
before  Miss  Johnson  came. 

"  You  likes  her  ?  "  and  Mug  looked  inquiringly  at  him. 

"1  never  saw  her,"  he  replied,  "but  Imean  to  like  her 
ves,"  and  Hugh  spoke  the  truth. 

He  could  not  account  for  it,  but  now  that  it  came  sc 
near,  there  was  something  enlivenmg  in  the  prospect  of 
Alice's  coming.  He  meant  to  like  her  —  meant  that  she 
ehould  like  him.  Xot  as  the  Golden  Haired  might  have 
done  had  she  lived,  but  as  a  friend,  a  sister.  He'd  try 
his  best  to  win  her  respect  before  'Lina  came  to  prejudice 
her  against  him.  if  indeed  she  had  not  done  so  already 


HUGH.  151 

and  a  pang  shot  through  his  heart  as  he  thought  how  pos- 
sible it  was  that  Alice  Johnson  was  prepared  already  to 
dislike  him.  But  no,  Ad  could  not  be  so  mean  as  that, 
and  Hugh  went  down  to  the  breakfast  which  Aunt  Eu- 
nice had  prepared,  and  of  which  he  could  scarcely  taste  a 
moi-sel. 

During  the  excitement  df  the  last  few  days,  the  pain 
in  his  head  had  in  a  measure  been  forgotten,  but  it  had 
come  back  this  morning  with  redoubled  force,  and  the 
veins  upon  his  forehead  looked  almost  like  bursting  with 
their  pressure  of  feverish  blood.  Hugh  did  not  think  it 
possible  for  him  to  be  sick,  and  he  tried  hard  to  forget 
the  giddy,  half  blinding  pain  warning  him  of  danger,  and 
after  forcing  himself  to  sip  a  little  coffee  in  which  he 
would  indulge  this  morning,  he  ordered  Claib  to  bring 
out  the  covered  buggy,  as  he  was  going  up  to  Lexington, 
hoping  thus  to  obtain  a  sight  of  Alice  without  being 
himself  seen,  or  at  least  known  as  Hugh  Worthington. 


CHAPTER  XVni. 

MEETI^^^G  OF  ALICE    AND    HUGH. 

Could  'Lin a  have  seen  Hugh  that  morning  as  he  emerg- 
ed from  a  fashionable  tailor's  shop,  she  would  scarcely 
have  recognized  him,  so  greatly  was  he  improved  by  the 
entire  new  suit  in  which  he  had  been  indulging,  and 
which  gave  him  so  stylish  an  appearance  that  Hugh  for  a 
moment  felt  uncomfortable,  and  was  glad  that  one  whole 
hour  must  elapse  before  the  cars  from  Cincinnati  were  duc^ 
as  he  could  thus  become  a  little  accustomed  to  himself 
and  not  be  so  painfully  conscious.  The  hour  passed  rap- 
idly away,  and  its  close  found  Hugh  waiting  at  the  ter- 
minus of  the  Lexington  and  Cincinnati  Railroad.    A  mo- 


152  HUGH   WOETHINGTON. 

ment  more,  and  the  broad  platform  was  swarming  ^nt):, 
passengers,  conspicuous  among  whom  were  an  old  lady 
and  a  young,  both  dressed  in  black,  both  closely  veiled 
and  both  entire  strangers,  as  was  evinced  by  their  anxie« 
ty  to  know  what  they  were  next  to  do,  or  where  to  go. 

"  These  are  ours,"  the  young  lady  said,  pointing  to  a 
huge  pile  of  trunks,  distinctly  marked  "  A.  J.,"  and  Hugh 
drew  so  near  to  her  that  her  long  black  veil  swept  against 
his  coat,  as  she  held  out  her  checks  in  her  ungloved  hand. 

Hugh  noticed  the  hand,  saw  that  it  was  very  small  and 
white  and  fat,  but  the  face  he  could  not  see,  and  he  looked 
in  vain  for  the  masjnificent  hair  about  which  even  his 
mother  had  waxed  eloquent,  and  which  was  now  put 
plainly  back,  so  that  not  a  vestige  of  it  was  visible.  Still 
Hugh  felt  sure  that  this  was  Alice  Johnson,  so  sure  that 
when  he  had  ascertained  the  hotel  where  she  would  wait 
for  the  Frankfort  train,  he  followed  on,  and  entering  the 
back  parlor,  the  door  of  which  was  partly  closed,  sat 
down  as  if  he  too  were  a  traveller,  waiting  foi'  the  train. 
It  never  occurred  to  Plugh  that  he  was  acting  the  part  of 
an  eaves-dropper,  so  anxious  he  was  to  see  Alice  without 
being  seen,  and  taking  up  an  old  paper,  he  pretended  to 
be  greatly  interested  in  its  columns,  which,  for  any  infor- 
mation he  gleaned  from  them,  might  as  well  have  been 
bottom  side  up. 

Meantime,  in  the  room  adjoining,  Alice  divested  her- 
self of  her  dusty  -^vi-appings,  and  taking  out  her  combs 
and  brushes,  began  to  arrange  her  hair,  talking  the  while 
to  Densie,  her  nurse,  reclining  on  the  sofa.  How  the  tones 
of  that  voice  thrilled  on  Hugh's  ear  like  some  forgotten 
nuslc,  heard  he  knew  not  when  or  where,  and  how  still 
he  sat,  when  at  last  the  conversation  turned  upon  his 
mother  and  'Lina,  about  whom  Alice  talked  fi-eely,  never 
dreaming  of  Hugh's  proximity. 

It  would  seem  that  Alice's  own  luxuriant  tresses  sug 
gested  her  first  remark,  for  she  said  to   Densie,  "That 


MEETING    OF   ALICE    AK^D    HUGH.  153 

Miss  Wortbington  had  beautiful  hair,  so  glossy,  and  so 
wavy,  too.  I  wonder  she  never  curls  it.  It  looks  as 
if  she  might." 

A  smile  fitted  over  Hugh's  face  as  he  thought  of  the 
lags,  and  wondered  what  Alice  would  say  could  she  sec 
Ad  early  in  the  morning,  with  a  red  silk  handkerchief 
tied  round  her  head  by  way  of  covering  what  he  called 
tags.  "It  would  take  a  steam  engine  to  make  Ad's  hair 
curl,"  he  said  to  himself,  while  Alice  continued, 

"  I  did  not  like  her  eyes;  they  were  too  much  like  coals 
of  fire,  when  they  flashed  angrily  on  that  poor  Lulu,  who 
evidently  was  not  well  posted  in  the  duties  of  a  waiting- 
maid.  If  mother  had  not  so  decided,  I  should  shrink 
from  being  an  inmate  of  Mrs.  Worthington's  family.  I 
like  her  very  much,  but  I  am  afraid  I  shall  not  get  on 
with  'Lina." 

"I  know  you  won't.  I  honor  your  judgment,"  was 
Hugh's  mental  comment,  while  Alice  went  on. 

"  And  what  she  told  me  of  her  brother  was  not  calcula- 
ted to  impress  me  favorably." 

Nervously  Hugh's  hands  grasped  each  other,  and  he 
could  distinctly  hear  the  beating  of  his  heart  as  he 
leaned  forward  so  as  not  to  lose  a  single  word. 

"  She  seemed  trying  to  prepare  me  for  him  by  telling 
how  rough  he  was  ;  how  little  he  cared  for  etiquette ;  and 
how  constantly  he  mortified  her  with  his  uncouth  man- 
ners." 

The  perspiration  fairly  dripped  from  Hugh's  flushed 
face,  as  with  clenched  fist  and  a  muttered  curse  upon  hia 
vrhite  lips  he  listened  while  Alice  went  on. 

"  Mother  never  dreamed  he  was  such  a  man.  Indeed, 
he  was  prepossessed  in  his  favor,  remembering  his  dis- 
tress when  he  lost  his  little  sister,  who  was  mysteriously 
abducted  by  her  father,  and  as  mysteriously  returned. 
He  was  a  fine,  handsome  boy,  mother  said,  and  she  thought 
I  would  like  him.     Bad  as  he  may  be,  he  is  evidently  a 

7* 


154  HUGH   WORTHING  TON. 

favorite  with  his  negroes,  for  Lulu  resented  what  hermia- 
tress  said  of  him,  and,  in  her  peculiar  way,  told  me  it  was 
false." 

"Heaven   bless   Lulu!"   Hugh    mentally    exclaimed. 
**  I'll  set  her  free  the  day  that  she's  eighteen  ;  but  Ad,  oh, 
mast  it  go  on  thus  ?     Will  she  always  be  a  thorn  to  ^ 
me?" 

Alice  did  not  hear  the  sigh  of  pain  or  see  the  mournful 
look  which  stole  over  Hugh's  face.  She  did  not  even  sus- 
pect his  presence,  and  she  continued  to  speak  of  Spring 
Bank,  wondering  if  Hugh  would  be  there  before  his  moth- 
er returned,  half  hoping  he  would  not,  as  she  rather  dread- 
ed meeting  him,  although  she  meant  to  like  him  if  she 
could. 

Poor  Hugh !  How  he  winced  and  trembled,  and  wish- 
ed he  was  away.  How  madly  the  hot  blood  poured  through 
his  swollen  veins,  and  how  fast  the  pain  increased  about 
his  temples,  while  little  sparks  of  fire  danced  before  his 
eyes.  Alice  should  have  her  wish,  he  said  bitterly.  She 
should  not  find  Spring  Bank  encumbered  with  its  hateful 
owner.  'Lina  should  not  find  him  there  when  she  return- 
ed, she  should  never  blush  again  for  him,  for  he  would  go 
away.  With  a  stifled,  noiseless  moan,  Hugh  rose  to  leave 
the  room,  glancing  once  toward  the  narrow  opening  in 
the  folding-doors.  Then,  as  if  petrified  with  what  he  saw, 
he  stood  riveted  to  the  spot,  his  quivering  lip3  apart,  his 
head  bent  forward,  and  his  eyes  almost  black,  so  strangely 
bright  they  grew. 

Alice's  long,  bright  hair,  was  arranged  at  last,  and  the 
soft  curls  fell  about  her  fice,  giving  to  it  the  same  look  it^ 
had  worn  in  childhood — the  look  which  was  gra^en  on 
Hugh's  heart,  as  with  a  pencil  of  fire' ;  the  look  he  never 
had  forgotton  tlirough  nil  the  years  which  had  come  and 
gone  since  first  it  shone  on  him  ;  the  look  he  had  never  hop- 
ed to  see  again,  so  sure  was  he  that  it  had  been  quenched 
by  the  wiiers  of  Lake  Erie.     Alice's  face  was  turned  fully 


MEETING    OF    ALICE    AND    HUGU.  155 

toward  him.  Through  the  open  window  at  her  back  the 
August  sunlight  streamed,  falling  on  her  chestnut  hair,  and 
tinging  it  with  the  yellow  gleam  which  Hugh  remembered 
so  well.  For  an  instant  the  long  lashes  shaded  the  fair 
round  cheek,  and  then  were  uplifted,  disclosing  the  eyca 
of  blue,  which,  seen  but  once,  could  never  be  mistaken, 
and  Hugh  was  not  mistaken.  One  look  of  piercing  scru  ^ 
tiny  at  the  face  unconsciously  confronting  him,  one  migh- 
ty throb,  which  seemed  to  bear  away  his  very  life,  and 
then  Hugh  knew  the  grave  had  given  up  its  dead. 

She  was  not  lost  for  she  stood  there  before  him.  She 
whose  memory  had  saved  him  oftentimes  from  sin.  She, 
for  whom  he  would  almost  lay  him  down  and  die.  ShCy 
the  Golden  Haired.  Changed,  it  is  true,  from  a  lovely 
child  of  thirteen  to  a  far  more  lovely  woman,  but  not  past 
his  recognition.  The  golden  locks  his  hands  had  touched 
but  once,  and  that  when  the  mad  waves  were  dashing  ov- 
er them,  had  put  on  a  richer,  darker  tinge,  and  fell  in 
heavier  masses  about  her  brow^  and  neck.  The  fece,  too, 
writh  its  piquant  nose,  was  more  mature ;  only  the  eyes 
were  wholly  unchanged.  In  them,  the  same  truthful  lov- 
/lug  light  was  shining,  and  the  curve  of  the  silken  lashes 
was  just  the  same  as  when  they  drooped  coyly,  beneath 
the  compliment  which  the  tall  youth  had  paid  them. 

Golden  Hair  had  come  back,  but,  alas,  prejudiced  against 
him.  She  hoped  he  might  be  gone.  She  would  be  hap- 
pier if  he  never  crossed  her  path.  "  And  I  never,  never 
will,"  Hugh  thought,  as  he  staggered  from  the  room  and 
Bought  a  small  outer  court,  whose  locality  he  knew,  and 
where  he  could  be  alone  to  think.  |^ 

The  throbbing  in  his  head  had  increased  in  violence, 
and  what  before  were  gleams  of  fire  dancing  before  hia 
eyes,  were  now  like  rings  of  blood,  of  which  the  sultry 
air  seemed  full.  How  sick  and  faint  he  w^as  sitting  there 
in  that  dingy  court,  with  his  head  upon  his  hands,  half 
■wishing  he  might  die,  and  so  trouble  no  one  any  more 


156  HUGH    WORTHINGTON. 

He  fell  that  the  dearest  treasure  he  had  ever  possessed 
was  wrested  from  him  —  that  in  losing  Golden  Hair's 
good  opinion  he  had  lost  all  that  made  life  desirable. 

"  Oh,  Adaline,"  he  murmured,  "  what  made  you  so 
cruel  to  me  ?     I  would  not  have  served  you  so." 

Thej-e  was  a  roll  of  wheels  before  the  door,  and  Hugh 
knew  by  the  sound  that  it  was  the  carriage  for  the  cais. 
She  was  going.  They  would  never  meet  again,  Hugh 
said,  and  she  would  never  know  that  the  youth  who  tned 
to  save  her  life  was  the  same  for  whose  coming  they 
would  wait  and  watch  in  vain  at  Spring  Bank. —  the  Hugh 
for  whom  his  mother  would  weep  awhile  ;  and  for  whose 
dark  fate  even  Ad  might  feel  a  little  sorry.  She  was  not 
wholly  depraved  —  she  had  some  sisterly  feeling,  and  his 
loss  would  waken  it  to  life.  They  would  appreciate  him 
after  he  was  gone,  and  the  poor  heart  whicli  had  known 
so  little  love  throbbed  jo}^ful]y,  as  Hugh  thought  of  being 
loved  at  last  even  by  the  selfish  'Lina. 

Fiercely  the  August  sun  poured  down  into  that  pent- 
up  court,  creating  a  drowsiness  winch  Hugh  did  not  care 
to  shake  off.  Unconsciousness  was  welcome  at  any  price, 
and  leaning  his  aching  head  against  the  damp,  mouldy 
wall,  he  fell  at  last  into  a  heavy  sleep. 

Meantime  Alice  and  Densie  proceeded  on  their  way  to 
the  Big  Spring  station,  where  Col.  Tiffton  was  waiting  for 
them,  according  to  his  promise.  There  was  a  shadow  in 
the  colonel's  good-humored  face,  and  a  shadow  in  his 
heart.  His  idol,  Nellie,  was  very  sick,  while  added  to 
this  was  the  terrible  certainty  that  he  alone  must  pay  a 
$10,000  note  on  which  he  had  foolishly  put  his  name,  be- 
cause Harney  had  preferred  it.  He  was  talking  with 
Harney  when  the  cars  came  up,  and  the  villain,  while  ex- 
l^ressing  regret  that  the  colonel  should  be  compelled  to 
pay  so  much  for  what  he  never  had  received,  had  said 
with  a  relentless  smile,  "  But  it's  not  my  fault,  you  know 
I  can't  afford  to  lose  it." 


MEETING    OF    ALICE    AND    HUGH.  157 

From  that  moment  the  colonel  felt  he  was  a  ruined  man, 
but  he  would  not  allow  himself  to  appear  at  all  discom- 
posed. 

*^  Wait  awhile,  he  said  ;  "  do  nothing  till  my  Nell  lives 
or  dies,"  and  with  a  sigh  as  he  thought  how  much  dearer 
to  him  was  his  youngest  daughter  than  all  the  farms  in 
Woodford,  he  went  forward  to  meet  Alice,  just  appearing 
uj)On  the  platform. 

The  colonel  explained  to  Alice  why  she  must  go  to 
Spring  Bank,  adding  by  way  of  consolation,  that  she 
would  not  be  quite  as  lonely  now  Hugh  was  at  home. 

''  Hugh  at  home  ! "  and  Alice  shrank  back  in  dismay, 
feelino-  for  a  moment  that  she  could  not  go  there. 

But  there  was  no  alternative,  and  after  a  few  tears 
which  she  could  not  repress,  she  said,  timidly, 

«  What  is  this  Hugh  ?     What  kind  of  a  man,  I  mean  ?  " 

She  could  not  expect  the  colonel  to  say  anything  bad 
of  him,  but  she  was  not  prepared  for  his  frank  response. 

"  The  likeliest  chap  in  Kentucky.  ^N'othing  dandified 
about  him,  to  be  sure.  Wears  his  trouser  legs  in  his  boots 
as  often  as  any  way,  and  don't  stand  about  the  very  latest 
cut  of  his  coat,  but  he's  got  a  heart  bigger  than  an  ox  — 
yes,  big  as  teii  oxen !  I'd  trust  him  with  my  life,  and  know 
it  was  safe  as  his  own.     You'll  like  Hugh  —  Nell  does." 

The  colonel  never  dreamed  of  the  comfort  his  words 
gave  Alice,  or  how  they  changed  her  feelings  with  regard 
to  one  whom  she  had  so  dreaded  to  meet. 

"  There  'tis ;  we're  almost  there,"  the  colonel  said  at 
la>t,  as  they  turned  off  from  the  highway,  and  leaning 
'forward  Alice  caught  sight  of  the  roofs  and  dilapidated 
•,himneys  of  Spring  Bank.  "'Tain't  quite  as  fixey  as 
Tankee  houses,  that's  a  fact,  but  we  that  own  niggers  nev- 
ej,  do  have  things  so  smarted  up,"  the  colonel  said,  guess- 
ing how  the  contrast  must  affect  Alice,  who  felt  so  deso- 
late and  homesick  as  she  drew  up  in  front  of  what,  for  a 
time  at  least,was  to  be  her  home. 


158  HUGH   WOETHINGTON. 

At  a  single  glance  she  took  in  every  peculiarity,  fi'(.>m  the 
mossy,  decaying  eaves,  where  the  swallows  were  twitter- 
ing their  songs,  to  the  group  of  negroes  ranged  upon  the 
piazza,  staring  curiously  at  her  as  she  alighted,  followed 
by  Densie  Densmore.  Where  was  Hugh  ?  Surely  he 
should  be  there  to  greet  her,  and  with  a  return  of  some- 
thing like  the  olden  terror  Alice  looked  nervously  in  all 
dh-eotions,  as  if  expecting  some  vampyre  to  start  out  and 
seize  her.  But  only  Aunt  Eunice,  in  trim  white  cap  and 
black  silk  apron,  appeared,  welcoming  the  strangers  with 
a  motherly  kindness,  which  went  to  Alice's  heart. 

Aunt  Eunice  saw  tliat  she  looked  very  tired,  and  asked 
if  she  would  not  go  at  once  to  her  room  and  lie  down. 
Glad  to  be  alone,  Alice  followed  her  through  the  hall  and 
up  the  stairs  to  the  pleasant  chamber  in  which  Hugh  had 
been  so  interested. 

"  You  are  tired  and  homesick,  too,  I  guess,"  Aunt  Eunice 
eaid,  "  but  you'll  get  over  it  by  and  by.  Spring  Bank  is  a 
pleasant  place,  and  if  Hugh  could  he'd  make  it  a  handsome 
one.     He  has  the  taste." 

"  Where  is  Hugh  ?  "  Alice  asked. 

Aunt  Eunice  would  not  say  he  had  gone  to  Lexington 
for  the  sake,  perhaps,  of  seeing  her,  so  she  replied, 

"  He  went  to  town  this  morning,  but  he'll  be  back  pret- 
ty soon.  He  has  done  his  best  to  make  it  pleasant  for 
you.  YouHl  like  Hugh.  There,  try  to  go  to  sleep,"  and 
kind  Aunt  Eunice  bustled  from  the  room  just  as  Densie 
entered  it,  together  with  Aunt  Chloe.  The  old  negress 
was  evidently  playing  the  hostess  to  Densie,  for  she  was 
talking  quite  loud,  and  all  about  "  Mas'r  Hugh."  "  Pity 
be  wasn't  thar,  'twould  seem  so  different ;  'tain't  de  same 
house  without  him.  YoiCll  like  Ma&\  Hugh^''  and  she, 
too  glided  from  the  room. 

Was  this  the  password  at  Spring  Bank,  "You'll  like 
Mas'r  Hugh  ?"  It  would  seem  so,  for  when  at  last  Han- 
nah brought  up  the  waffles  and  tea,  which  Aunt  Eunice 


MEETING    OF    ALICE    AND    HUGH.  159 

had  prepared,  she  sat  down  her  tray,  and  after  a  few  in- 
quiries  concerning  Alice's  head,  wliich  was  now  aching 
sadly,  she,  too,  launched  forth  into  a  panegyric  on  Mas'r 
Hugh,  ending,  as  the  rest  had   done,  "You'll  like  Mas'r 

Hugh." 

Alice  began  to  believe  she  should,  and  with  a  silen  ^ 
thanksgiving  that  the  great  bugbear  of  Spring  Bank  wa>j 
likely  to  prove  so  harmless,  she  waited  and  listened  for 
any  sounds  which  might  herald  Hugh's  approach.  But 
the  summer  evening  waned  and  the  summer  night  closed 
qui  Jtly  around  Spring  Bank,  without  bringing  its^  master 
hoiae.  One  by  one  the  negroes  w^ent  to  their  cabins,  and 
when  at  last  the  clock  struck  twelve.  Aunt  Eunice,  who 
had  been  w^aiting  for  her  boy,  lighted  her  tallow  candle 
and  stole  noiselessly  to  her  room,  where  by  the  open  win- 
dow she  sat  for  a  long,  long  time,  listening  to  the  howl  of 
Rover,  who,  sat  upon  the  steps  and  filled  the  air  with  his 
lonely  cries.  Aunt  Eunice  was  not  superstitious,  but  Ro 
ver's  howl  sounded  painfully  in  her  ear,  and  when  at  last 
she  crept  slowly  to  her  pillow  there  was  a  dread  fear  at 
her  heart  lest  something  had  befallen  Hugh. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


ALICE    AND    MUGGINS. 


Had  an  angel  appeared  suddenly  to  the  blacks  at  Spring 
Bank  they  would  not  have  been  more  surprised  or  delighted 
than  they  were  with  Alice  when  she  came  down  to  breakfast 
looking  so  beautifully  in  her  muslin  wrapper,  wdth  a  simpl 
white  blossom  and  geranium  leaf  twined  among  her  flowing 
»mrls,  and  an  expression  of  content  upon  her  childish  face 
which  said  that  she  had  resolved  to  make  the  best  of  the 
place  to  which  Rrovidence  had  so  clearly  led  her  for  some 


160  HUGH   WOKTHINGTON. 

wise  purpose  of  his  own.  She  had  arisen  early  and  ex 
plored  the  premises  in  quest  of  tlie  spots  of  sunshine 
which  she  knew  were  there  as  well  as  elsewhere,  and  she 
had  found  them,  too,  in  the  grand  old  elms  and  maples 
which  shaded  the  wooden  building,  in  the  clean,  grassy 
lawn  and  the  running  brook,  in  the  well  kept  garden  of 
flowers,  and  in  the  few  choice  volumes  arranged  in  the  olJ 
bookcase  at  one  end  of  the  hall.  Who  read  those  books? 
Not  'Lina,  most  assuredly,  for  Alice'  reminiscencea  of 
her  were  not  of  the  literary  kind ;  nor  yet  Mrs.  Worthing- 
ton,  kind,  gentle  creature  as  she  seemed  to  be.  Who 
then  but  Hugh  could  have  pored  over  those  pages  ?  And 
with  a  thrill  of  joy  she  was  turning  from  the  corner,  when 
the  patter  of  little  naked  feet  was  heard  upon  the  stairs, 
and  a  bright  mulatto  child,  apparently  seven  or  eight  years 
old,  appeared,  her  face  expressive  of  the  admiration  with 
which  she  regarded  Alice,  who  asked  her  name. 

Curtesying  very  low  the  child  replied, 

"  I  dunno,  missus  ;  Mns'r  Hugh  don  nickname  me  Mug- 
gins^ and  every  folks  do  that  now.  You  know  Mas'r  Hugh  ? 
He  done  raved  \\\\q\i  he  read  you's  comin';  dothisw\ay 
wdth  his  boot,'  By  George,  Ad  will  sell  the  old  hut  yet  with- 
out 'sultin'  me,' "  and  the  little  darkey's  fist  came  down 
ujDon  the  wiudow  sill  in  apt  imitation  of  her  master. 

A  crimson  flush  overspread  Alice's  face  as  she  wondered 
if  it  were  possible  that  the  arrangements  concerning  her 
cominoj  there  had  been  made  without  reference  to  HuiHi's 
A^'ishes. 

"It  may  be;  he  was  away,"  she  sighed;  then  feeling  an 
^.ntense  desire  to  know  more,  and  being  only  a  woman 
ind  mortal,  she  said  to  Muggins^  walking  round  her  in 
circles,  with  her  fat  arms  folded  upon  her  bosom,  "Your 
master  did  not  know^  I  was  coming  till  he  returned  from 
New  Orleans  and  found  his  mother's  letter  ?  " 

"  Who  tole  you  dat  ar  ?  "  and  Muggin's  face  was  per- 
fectly comical  in  its  bewilderment  at  what  she  deemed 


ALICE    AXD    MUGGIXS.  161 

Alice's  fbreknowlcdge.  «  But  dat's  so.  I  hear  Aunt  Ohloe 
say  so,  and  how't  was  right  mean  in  Miss  'Lina.  I  hate 
Miss  'Lina  !  Phew-ew  !  "  and  Muggins'  face  screwed  it- 
self into  a  look  of  such  perfect  disgust  that  Alice  could  not 
forbear  laughing  outright. 

"  You  should  not  hate  any  one,  my  child,"  she  said,  while 
Muggins  rejoined, 

" I  can't  help  it  —  none  of  us  can;  she's  so — mean  — 
and  so  —  low-flung,  Claib  says.     She  hain't  any  Uzzens  oi 
derin'  us  round  nuther,  and  I  will  hate  her ! " 

"  But,  Muggins,  the  Bible  teaches  us  to  love  those  who 
treat  us  badly,  who  are  mecm,  as  you  say." 

"  Who's  he  ?  "  and  Muggins  looked  up  quickly.  «  I  nev- 
er hearn  tell  of  him  afore,  or,  yes,  I  has.  Thar's  an  old 
wared  out  book  in  Mas'r  Hugh's  chest,  what  he  reads  in 
every  night,  and  oncet  when  I  axes  him  what  was  it,  he 
say  '  It's  a  Bible,  Mug.'  Dat's  what  he  calls  me  for  short, 
Mug:' 

There  was  a  warm  spot  now  in  Alice's  heart  for  Hugh. 
A  man  who  read  his  Bible  every  night  could  not  be  very 
bad,  and  she  blessed  Mug  for  the  cheering  news,  little 
dreaming  whose  Bible  it  was  Hugh  read,  or  whose  curl 
of  yellow  hair  served  him  for  a  book  mark.  Mug's  pry- 
ing eyes  had  ferreted  that  out,  too,  and  delighted  with  so 
attentive  a  listener  as  Alice,  she  continued  : 

"  Dat's  the  thing,  then,  what  teaches  us  to  love  the  hate- 
fuls.  Mug  don't  want  to  read  him,  though  I  reckon  Mas'r 
Hugh  done  grow  some  better,  for  he  hain't  been  hoppin' 
mad  this  good  while,  like  he  got  at  Miss  'Lina  'bout  that 
1. dress  and  Miss  Adah.  He  was  awful  then.  He  swared, 
lie  did." 

.  ••'  Muggins,  you  must  not  tell  me  these  things  of  your 
master.  It  is  not  right,"  Alice  interposed  and  Muggins 
replied, 

"  Well,  then,  I  done  took  'em  back.     He  didn't  swared, 
but  he  do  read  the  Bible,  and  he  do  kiss  dat  curl  of  yal- 


162  HUGH   WORTHINGTON. 

ler  bar  what  he  keeps  in  it.  I  see  him  through  the  do' 
and  I  hear  him  whisper  'bout  Golden  Har,  or  somethin 
mighty  like  him." 

Alice  was  in  a  tremor  of  distress.  She  knew  Muggins 
ought  not  to  disclose  Hugli's  secrets,  and  she  saw  no  way 
to  stop  her  except  by  sending  her  away,  and  this  she  was 
about  to  do  when  a  new  idea  was  suggested  to  her.  Pos- 
sibly she  ould  keep  her  from  repeating  the  story  to  others, 
so  she  asked  if  "  Muggins  had  ever  told  this  aboui  the 
cut]  to  any  one  else." 

"Nobody  but  Chloe,  and  she  boxtmj  ears  so  that  I  done 
forgot  till  I  see  you,  and  that  har  of  your'n  makes  me 
'member  the  one  Mas'r  Hugh  kissed  —  real  smackin'  loud, 
so,"  and  Muggins  illustrated  on  her  own  hand. 

"  Well,  then,"  Alice  said,  "  promise  you  will  not.  Your 
master  would  be  very  angry  to  know  you  watched  him 
through  the  door,  and  then  told  what  you  saw.  You 
must  be  a  good  girl.  Muggins.  God  will  love  you  if  you 
do.     Do  you  ever  pray  ?  " 

"  More  times  I  do,  and  more  times  when  I'se  sleepy  I 
don't,"  was  Muggins '  reply,  her  face  brightening  up  as 
she  continued,  "  But  I  can  tell  you  who  does  —  Miss  Adah 
and  Uncle  Sara,  over  dar  in  the  cornfield.  They  prays, 
both  of  'em,  and  Sam,  is  powerful,  I  tell  you.'  I  hears 
him  at  the  black  folk's  meetin'.  Hollers  —  oh  !  oh  ! "  and 
Muggins  stopped  her  ears,  as  if  even  the  memory  of  Sam's 
prayers  were  deafening ;  but  if  the  ears  stopped,  the  tonguf* 
was  just  as  busy  as  the  '^alkative  child  went  on  "• 
*•  Sam  prays  for  Mas'r  Hugh,  that  God  would  fotch  him 
light  some  day,  and  Miss  Adah  say  God  will,  'case  she  say 
he  see  and  hear  everyting.  Mug  don't  believe  dat ;  can't 
cheat  dis  chile,  'case  if  he  hear  and  see,  what  made  him 
hold  still  dat  time  Miss  'Lina  licked  me  for  telling  Mas'r 
Harney  how't  she  done  up  her  har  at  night  in  fourteen  Ut- 
tic  braids,  and  slep'  in  great  big  cap  to  make  it  look  wavy 
like  yourn.     Does  you  twist  yourn  up  in  tails  ?  "  and  aa 


AXICE    AND    MUGGINS.  163 

Bk  'J  had  all  along  been  aching  to  do,  Mugghis  laid  her 
hpuds  on  the  luxuriant  tresses,  which  Alice  assured  her 
vfp.re  not  done  up  in  tails. 

Here  was  a  spot  where  Alice  might  do  good ;  this  hali^ 
heathen,  but  sprightly,  African  child  needed  her.  and  she 
began  already  to  get  an  inkling  of  her  mission  to  Ken- 
tucky. She  was  pleased  with  Muggins,  and  suffered  the 
little  dusky  hands  to  caress  her  curls  as  long  as  they 
pleased,  while  she  questioned  her  of  the  bookcase  and  its 
contents,  whose  was  it,  'Lina's  or  Hugh's  ? 

"Mas'r  Hugh's  in  course.  Miss  'Lina  can^t  read!''''  was 
Muggins'  reply,  which  Alice  fully  understood. 

'Lina  was  no  reader,  while  Hugh  was,  it  might  be,  and 
she  continued  to  speak  of  him.  Did  he  read  evenings  to 
his  mother,  or  did  'Lina  play  to  them  ? 

"  More'n  we  wants,  a  heap  ! "  and  Muggins  spoke  scorn- 
fully. "  We  can't  bar  them  things  she  thumps  out.  Now 
we  likes  Mas'r  Hugh's  the  best  —  got  good  voice,  sing 
Dixie,  oh,  splendid!  Mas'r  Hugh  loves  flowers,  too. 
Tend  all  them  in  the  garden." 

"Did  he  ?  "  and  Alice  spoke  with  great  animation,  for 
she  had  supposed  that  'Lina's  or  at  least  Mrs.  Worthing- 
ton's  hands  had  been  there. 

But  it  was  all  Hugh,  and  in  spite  of  what  Muggins 
had  said  concerning  his  aversion  to  her  coming  there 
she  felt  a  great  desire  to  see  him.  She  could  understand 
in  part  why  he  should  be  angry  at  not  having  been  con- 
sulted, but  he  was  over  that,  she  was  sure  from  what  Aunt 
Eunice  said,  and  if  he  were  not,  it  behooved  her  to  try 
her  best  to  remove  any  wrong  impression  he  might  have^ 
foi-nied  of  her.  "  He  shall  like  me,"  she  thought ;  "  not 
as  he  must  like  that  golden  haired  maiden,  whose  exis- 
tence  this  sprite  of  a  negro  has  discovered,  but  as  a  friend, 
or  sister,"  and  a  softer  light  shone  in  Alice's  blue  eyes, 
as  she  foresaw  in  fancy  Hugh  gradually  coming  to  like 


164  HUGH   WORTHINGTON. 

her,  to  be  glad  that  she  was  there,  and  to  il\ss  ter  when 
she  was  gone. 

"  What  time  did  he  come  home  last  night  ?  "  she  asked, 
feeling  more  disappointed  than  she  cared  to  confess  at 
Muggin's  answer  that,  "  he  hadn't  come  at  all !  " 

Alice  was  but  human,  and  it  must  be  confessed  that  she 

ad  made  her  toilet  that  morning  with  a  slight  reference 

to  Hugh's  eyes,  w^ondering  if  he  liked  white,  and  wot  cler- 

ing,  too,  if  he   liked   flowers,  when   she  placed  the    wax 

ball  in  her  hair. 

"You  are  sorry?"  Mug  said,  interpreting  her  looks 
aright. 

"  Yes,  I  am  sorry.  I  want  to  see  your  master,  Hugh. 
I  mean  to  like  him  very  much." 

"  I'll  tell  him  dat  ar,"  thought  Muggins.  "  I  'members 
how't  he  say  once.t  that  nobody  done  love  him,"  and,  spy- 
ing Claib  in  the  distance,  the  little  tattler  ran  off  to  tell 
him  how  beautiful  the  new  missus  was,  and  how  she  let 
her  smooth  her  har^  all  she  wanted  to. 


CHAPTER   XX. 

rOOE    HUGH. 

Could  Hugh  have  known  the  feelings  with  which  Alice 
Johnson  already  regarded  him,  and  the  opinion  she  had 
expressed  to  Muggins,  it  would  perhaps  have  stilled  the 
^fierce  throbbings  of  his  heart,  which  sent  the  hot  blood 
BO  swiftly  through  his  veins,  and  made  him  from  the  fii-al 
delirious.  They  had  found  him  in  the  quiet  court  just 
after  the  sun  setting,  and  his  uncovered  head  was  already 
wet  with*  the  falling  dew,  and  the  profuse  perspiration 
induced  by  his  long,  heavy  sleep.  He  w^as  well  known  at 
the  hotel,  and  measures  were  immediately  taken  for  appris* 


POOE   HUGH.  165 

mg  his  famil}  of  the  sudden  illness,  and  for  removing  him 

to  Spring  Bank  as  soon  as  possible. 

Breakfiast  was  not  yet  over  at  Spring  Bank,  and  Aunt 
Eunice  was  wondering  what  could  have  become  of  Hugli, 
when  from  her  position  near  the  window  she  discovered 
a  horseman  riding  across  the  lawn  at  a  rate  which  betokened 
some  important  errand.  Alice  spied  him  too,  and  tho 
game  thought  flashed  over  both  herself  and  Aunt  Eunice. 
"  Something  had  beflxllen  Hugh." 

Alice  was  the  first  upon  the  piazza,  where  she  stood 
\ia'iting  till  the  rider  came  up, 

"  Are  you  Miss  Worthington  ?  "  he  asked,  doffing  his 
Bofl  hat,  and  feeling  a  thrill  of  wonder  at  sight  of  her 
marvellous  beauty. 

"  Miss  AVorthington  is  not  at  home,"  she  said,  going 
down  the  steps  and  advancing  closer  to  him,  "  but  I  can 
take  your  message.  Is  any  thing  the  matter  with  Mr. 
Worthington  ?  " 

Aunt  Eunice  had  now  joined  her,  and  listened  breath- 
leswsly  while  the  young  man  told  of  Hugh's  illness,  which 
threatened  to  be  the  prevailing  fever. 

"  They  were  bringing  him  home,"  he  said  — "  were  now 
on  the  way,  and  he  had  ridden  in  advance  to  prepare 
them  for  his  coming." 

Aunt  Eunice  seemed  literally  stunned  and  wholly  incapa- 
ble of  action,  while  the  negroes  howled  dismally  for  Mas'r 
Hugh,  who,  Chloe  said,  was  sure  to  die.  . 

Alice  alone  was  calm  and  capable  of  acting.  A  room 
must  be  prepared,  and  somebody  must  direct,  but  to  ^nd 
the  somebody  was  a  most  difficult  matter.  Chloe  couldn't ' 
Hannah  couldn't.  Aunt  Eunice  couldn't,  and  consequently 
It  all  devolved  upon  herself.  Throwing  aside  tlie  feelings 
of  a  stranger  she  summoned  Densie  to  her  aid,  and  then 
went  quietly  to  work.  By  dint  of  questioning 'Muggins, 
who  hovered  near  her  constantly,  she  ascertained  which 
was  Hugh's  sleeping  room,  and  entered  it  to  reconnoiter 


166  HUGH   WORTHINGTON. 

It  was  the  most  uncomfortable  room  in  the  house,  for 
during  two  thirds  of  the  day  the  hot  sun  poured  down  u}»on 
ihe  low  roof,  heating  the  walls  like  an  oven,  and  rendering 
it  wholly  unfit  for  a  sick  man.  Hugh  must  m  t  be  put 
there,  and  after  satisfying  herself  that  her  own  chamber 
was  the  coolest  and  most  convenient  in  the  house,  Alice 
came  to  a  decision,  and  regardless  of  her  own  personal 
comfort,  set  to  w^ork  to  remove,  with  Densie's  help,  her 
various  articles  of  luggage. 

By  this  time  Aunt  Eunice  had  rallied  a  little,  and  hearing 
what  Alice  was  doing,  offered  a  faint  remonstrance. 
Hugh  would  never  be  reconciled  to  taking  Miss  Johnson's 
room,  she  said,  but  Alice  silenced  every  objection,  and 
Aunt  Eunice  yielded  the  point,  feeling  intuitively  that 
the  sceptre  had  passed  from  her  hand  into  a  far  more 
efficient  one.  The  pleasant  chamber,  in  which  only  yester- 
day morning  Hugh  himself  had  been  so  interested,  was 
ready  at  last.  The  wide  north  windows  were  open,  and 
the  soft  summer  air  came  stealing  in,  lifting  the  muslin 
curtains  which  Alice  had  looped  l>ack,  blowing  across  the 
snowy  pillows  which  Alice's  hands  had  arranged,  and 
kissing  the  half  withered  flowers  which  Hugh  had  picked 
for  Alice.' 

"  ril  done  get  some  fresher  ones.  Mas'r  Hugh  love  the 
posies,"  Muggins  said,  as  she  saw  Alice  bonding  over  the 
vase. 

"  Poor  Hugh ! "  Alice  sighed,  as  IMuggins  ran  off  for  the 
flowers,  which  she  brought  to  Miss  Johnson,  who  arrang- 
ed them  into  beautiful  bouquets  for  the  sick  man  now  just 
>at  the  gate.  Alice  saw  the  carriage  as  it  stopped,  and  saw 
the  tall  form  which  the  men  were  helping  up  the  walk; 
and  that  was  all  she  saw,  so  busily  was  she  occupied  ni 
hushing  the  outcries  of  the  excitable  negroes,  while  Hugh 
was  carried  to  the  room  designated  by  Densie,  and  into 
which  he  went  unwillingly.  ''It  was  not  his  den,"  ho 
said,  drawing  back  with  a  bewildered  look;  "  his  w^as  hot^ 


POOR    HUGH.  167 

and  close,  and  dingy,  while  this  was  nice  and  cool  —  a 
room  such  as  women  had  ;  there  must  be  a  mistake,"  and 
be  begged  of  them  to  take  him  away. 

"No,  no,  my  poor  boy.  This  is  right;  Miss  Johnson 
said  you  must  come  here  just  because  it  is  cool  and  nice. 
Tou'll  get  well  so  must  faster,"  and  Aunt  Eunice's  tear3 
<[lropi)ed  on  Hugh's  flushed  face. 

"Miss  Johnson!"  and  the  wild  eyes  looked  up  eagerly 
at  her.  "  Who  is  she  ?  Oh,  yes,  I  know,  I  know,"  and  a 
moan  came  from  his  lips  as  he  whispered,  "  Does  she  know 
I've  come  ?  Does  it  make  her  hate  me  worse  to  see  me  in 
such  a  plight  ?  Ho,  Aunt  Eunice,  put  your  ear  down  close 
while  I  tell  you  something.  Ad  said  —  you  know  Ad  — 
she  said  I  was  —  I  was  —  I  can't  tell  you  what  she  said 
for  this  buzzing  in  my  head.  Am  I  very  sick.  Aunt  Eu- 
nice ?  "  and  about  the  chin  there  was  a  quivering  motion, 
which  betokened  a  ray  of  consciousness,  as  the  brown  eyes 
scanned  the  kind,  motherly  face  bending  over  him. 

"Yes,  Hugh,  you  are  very  sick,"  and  Aunt  Eunice's 
tears  dropped  upon  the  face  of  her  boy,  so  fearfully  chang- 
ed since  yesterday. 

He  wiped  them  away  himself,  and  looked  inquiringly 
at  her. 

"  Am  I  so  sick  that  it  makes  you  cry  ?  Is  it  the  fever 
I've  got  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Hugh,  the  fever,"  and  Aunt  Eunice  bowed  hei 
face  upon  his  burning  hands. 

For  a  moment  he  lay  unconscious,  then  raising  himself 
np,  he  fixed  his  eyes  piercingly  upon  her,  and  whispered 
hoarsely, 

"Aunt  Eunice,  1  shall  die  !  I  have  never  been  sick  in 
my  life  ;  and  the  fever  goes  hard  witii  such.  I  shall  sure- 
ly die.  It's  been  days  in  coming  on,  and  I  thought  to 
fight  it  off,  I  don't  want  to  die.  I'm  not  prepared,"  and 
in  the  once  strong  man's  voice  there  was  a  note  of  fear, 
Buch  as  only  the  dread  of  death  could  have  wrung  from 


168  HUGH    WORTIIINGTOir. 

him.  "Aunt  Eunice,"  and  the  voice  was  now  a  kind  of 
sob,  "tell  Adah  and  Sam  to  pray.  I  shall  lose  my  senses 
soon,  they  go  and  come  so  fast ;  and  tell  Miss  Johnson, 
(I've  heard  that  she  too  prays)  tell  her  when  she  watches 
by  me,  as  perhaps  she  will,  tell  her  to  pray,  though  I  do 
not  hear  it,  pray  that  I  need  not  die,  not  yet,  not  yet.  Oh 
if  I  had  prayed  sooner,  prayed  before,"  and  the  white  lips 
moved  as  if  uttering  now  the  petitions  too  long  left  un- 
paid. 

Then  the  mind  wandered  again,  and  Hugh  talked  of 
Alice  and  Golden  Hair,  not  as  one  and  the  same,  but  aa 
two  distinct  individuals,  and  then  he  spoke  of  his  moth- 
er. 

"  You'll  send  for  her ;  and  if  I'm  dead  when  she  comes, 
tell  her  I  tried  to  be  a  dutiful  son,  and  was  always  soiTy 
when  I  failed.     Tell  her  I  love  my  mother  more  than  she 

ever  dreamed;  and  tell  Ad "     Here  he  paused,  and 

the  forehead  knit  itself  into  great  wrinkles,  so  intense 
were  his  thoughts.  "  Tell  Ad  —  no,  not  tell  her  anything. 
She'll  be  glad  when  I'm  dead,  and  trip  back  from  my  grave 
so  gaily ! " 

He  was  growing  terribly  excited  now,  and  Aunt  Eunice 
hailed  the  comino-  of  the  doctor  with  delicjht.  Husrh 
knew  him,  offering  his  pulse  and  putting  out  his  tongue 
of  his  own  accord.  The  doctor  counted  the  rapid  pulse, 
numbering  even  then  130  per  minute,  noted  the  rolling 
eyeballs  and  the  dilation  of  the  pupils,  felt  the  fierce  throb- 
bing of  the  swollen  veins  upon  the  temple,  and  then  shook 
his  head.  Half  conscious,  half  delirious,  Hugh  watched 
tim  nervously,  until  the  great  fear  at  his  heart  found  ut  ^ 
ttrance  in  words, 

"Must  I  die?" 

"We  hope  not.  We'll  do  what  we  can  to  save  you. 
Don't  think  of  dying,  my  boy,"  was  the  physician's  reply, 
as  he  turned  to  Aunt  Eunice,  and  gave  out  the  medicine, 
which  must  be  most  carefully  admininistered. 


POOR  HUGH.  169 

Too  much  agitated  to  know  just  what  he  said,  Aunt 
Eunice  listened  as  one  who  heard  not,  noticing  which 
the  doctor  said, 

"  You  are  not  the  right  one  to  take  these  directions. 
Is  there  nobody  here  less  nervous  than  yourself?  Who 
was  that  young  lady  standing  by  the  door  when  I  came 
in.  The  one  in  white,  I  mean,  with  such  a  quantity  of 
curls." 

*'  Miss  Johnson  —  our  visitor.  She  can't  do  anything," 
Aunt  Eunice  replied,  trying  to  compose  herself  enough  to 
know  what  she  was  doing. 

But  the  doctor  thought  differently.  Something  of  a 
physiognomist,  he  had  been  struck  Avith  the  expression  of 
Alice's  flice,  and  felt  sure  that  she  would  be  a  more  efficient 
aid  than  Aunt  Eunice  herself  « I'll  speak  to  her,"  he  said, 
stepping  to  the  hall.  But  Alice  was  gone.  She  had  stood 
by  the  sick  room  door  long  enough  to  hear  Hugh's  impas- 
sioned words  concerning  his  probable  death  —  long 
enough  to  hear  him  ask  that  she  might  pray  for  him ;  and 
then  she  stole  away  to  where  no  ear,  save  that  of'God, 
could  hear  the  earnest  prayer  that  Hugh  Worthingtou 
might  live  —  or  that  dying,  there  might  be  given  him  a 
space  in  which  to  grasp  the  foith,  without  which  the  grave 
is  dark  and  terrible  indeed. 

"  I'm  glad  I  came  here  now,"  she  whispered,  as  she  rose 
from  her  knees.  "  I  know  my  work  in  part,  and  may  God 
give  me  strength  to  do  it." 

« Is  you  talkin'  to  God,  Miss  Alice  ?  "  said  a  little  voice, 
and  Mug's  round  black  face  looked  cautiously  in. 

"  Yes,  Muggins,  I  was  talking  to  God."  ^ 

« I'd  mighty  well  like  to  know  what  you  done  say,"  was 
Mug's  next  remark,  as  she  ventured  across  the  threshold. 
"  I  asked  him  to  make  your  Master  Hugh  well  again,  or 
else  take  him  to  heaven,"  was  Alice's  reply ;  whereupon 
the  great  tears  gathered  in  the  eyes  of  the  awe-struck 
child,  who  continued, 


170  HUGH    WORTHINGTOX. 

**I  wish  I  could  ax  God,  loo.  Would  he  hear  black 
nigger  like  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Muggins,  God  hears  everybody,  black  as  well  as 
white." 

"Then  I  jest  go  down  in  the  woods  wliar  Claib  can't 
see  me,  and  ax  Him  to  cure  Mas'r  Hugh,  not  take  liim  to 
heaven.     I  don't  like  dat  ar." 

It  was  in  vain  that  Alice  tried  to  explain.  Muggin*^' 
mind  grasped  but  one  idea.  Master  Hugh  must  live  ;  and 
fihe  started  to  leave  the  room,  turning  back  to  ask,  "  if 
God  could  hear  all  the  same  if  she  got  down  by  the  brook 
where  the  bushes  were  so  thick  that  Claib  nor  nobody 
could  find  her  if  they  tried."  Assured  that  he  would,  she 
stole  from  the  house,  and  seeking  out  the  hiding  place 
kneeled  down  upon  the  tall,  rank  grass,  and  with  her  face 
hidden  in  the  roots  of  the  alder  bushes,  she  asked  in  her 
peculiar  way,  that  "  God  would  not  take  Mas'r  Hugh  to 
heaven,  but  give  him  a  heap  of  doctor's  stuff,  and  make 
him  well  again,"  promising,  if  he  did,  that  "  She  would 
not  steal  any  more  jam  from  the  jars  in  the  cellar,  or  any 
more  sugar  from  the  bowl  in  the  closet."  She  could  not 
remember  for  whose  sake  Alice  had  bidden  her  pray,  so 
she  said,  "  for  the  sake  of  him  what  miss  done  tell  me," 
adding  quickly,  "Miss  Alice,  I  mean,  not  Miss  'Lina! 
Bah!" 

Muof^ins  intended  no  irreverence,  nor  did  she  dream 
that  she  was  guilty  of  any.  She  only  felt  that  she  had 
done  her  best,  and  into  her  childish  heart  there  crept  a 
trusting  faith  that  God  had  surely  heard,  and  Mas'r  Hugh 
would  live. 

Anc  who  shall  say  that  He  did  not  hear  and  answer  Mug 
gin's  prayer,  made  by  the  running  brook,  where  none  but 
Him  could  hear  ? 

Meantime,  the  Hugh  for  whom  the  prayer  was  made 
had  fallen  into  a  heavy  sleep,  and  Aunt  Eunice  noiselessly 
left  the  room,  meeting  in  the  hall  with  Alice,  who  asked 


POOR    HUGH.  171 

permission  to  go  in  and  sit  by  him  until  he  awoke.  Aunt 
Eunice  consented,  and  with  noiseless  footsteps  Alice  ad- 
vanced into  the  darkened  room,  and  after  standing  still 
for  a  moment  to  assure  herself  that  Hugh  was  really  sleep- 
ing, stole  softly  to  his  bedside  and  bent  down  to  look  at 
him,  starting  quickly  at  the  resemblance  to  somebody  seen 
before.  Who  was  it  ?  Where  was  it  ?  she  asked  herself, 
her  brain  a  labyrinth  of  bewilderment  as  she  tried  in  vain 
to  recall  the  time  or  place  a  face  like  this  reposing  upon 
the  pillow  had  met  her  view.  But  her  efforts  were  all  in 
vain  to  bring  the  past  to  mind,  and  thinking  she  was  mis- 
taken in  supposing  she  had  ever  seen  him  before,  she  sat 
softly  down  beside  him. 

How  disappointed  Alice  was  in  him,  asking  herself  il 
it  could  be  the  dreaded  Hugh.  There  was  surely  nothing 
to  be  dreaded  from  him  now,  and  as  if  she  had  been  his 
sister  she  wiped  the  sweat  drops  from  his  face. 

There  was  a  tremulous  motion  of  the  lids,  a  contract- 
ing of  the  muscles  about  the  mouth,  and  then  the  eyes 
opened  for  a  moment,  but  the  stare  he  gave  to  Alice  was 
wholly  meaningless.  He  evidently  had  no  thought  of  her 
presence,  though  he  murmured  the  name  "  Golden  Hair," 
and  then  fell  away  again  into  the  heavy  stupor  which  con- 
tinued all  the  day.  Alice  would  not  leave  him.  She 
had  heard  him  say,  "  When  she  watches  by  me  as  perhaps 
she  will,  though  I  may  not  know  her,"  and  that  was  suffi- 
cient to  keep  her  at  his  side.  She  was  accustomed  to  sick- 
ness, she  said,  and  in  spite  of  Aunt  Eunice's  entreaties, 
she  sat  by  his  pillow,  bathing  his  burning  hands,  holding 
the  cooliug  ice  upon  his  head,  putting  it  to  his  lips,  nnd 
doing  those  thousand  little  acts  which  only  a  kind  woman- 
ly heart  can  prompt,  and  silently  praying  almost  constant 
ly  as  Hugh  had  said  she  must. 

There  were  others  than  Alice  praying  for  Hugh  that 
summer  afternoon,  for  Muggins  had  gone  from  the  brook 
to  the  cornfield,  startling  Adah  with  the  story  of  Hugh'i 


172  HUGH    WORTHINGTON. 

sickness,  .lucl  then  launching  out  into  a  glowing  descrip- 
tion of  the  new  miss,  "  with  her  white  gownd  and  curls  as 
long  as  Rocket's  tail." 

"She  talked  with  God,  too,"  she  said,  "like  what  you 
does.  Miss  Adah.  She  axes  him  to  make  Mas'r  Hugh  well, 
«nd  lie  will,  won't  He  ?  " 

"  J  trust  so,"  Adah  answered,  her  own  heart  going  si- 
lentl}  up  to  the  Giver  of  life  and  health,  asking,  if  it  were 
possible,  that  her  noble  friend  might  be  spared. 

Old  Sam,  too,  with  streaming  eyes  stole  out  to  hia 
bethel  by  the  spring,  and  prayed  for  the  dear  "  Massah 
Hugh"  lying  so  still  at  Spring  Bank,  and  insensible  to  all 
the  prayers  going  up  in  his  behalf 

How  terrible  that  death-like  stupor  was,  and  the  phy- 
sician, when  later  in  the  afternoon  he  came  again,  shook  his 
head  sadly. 

"I'd  rather  see  him  rave  till  it  took  ten  men  to  hold 
him,"  he  said,  feeling  the  wiry  pulse  which  were  now  be- 
yond his  count. 

"  Is  there  nothing  that  will  rouse  him  ?  "  Alice  asked, 
**  no  name  of  one  he  loves  more  than  another  ?  " 

The  doctor  answered  "  no ;  love  for  woman-kind,  save 
as  he  feels  it  for  his  mother  or  his  sister,  is  unknown  to 
Hugh  Worthington." 

But  Alice  did  not  think  so.  The  only  words  he  had 
whispered  since  she  sat  there,  together  with  Muggins' 
story  of  the  Bible  and  the  curl,  would  indicate  that  fur 
down  in  Hugh's  heart,  where  the  world  had  never  seen, 
there  was  hidden  a  mighty,  undying  love  for  some  one. 
How  she  wished  they  were  alone,  that  she  might  whisper, 
that  name  in  his  ear,  but  with  the  doctor  there,  and  Aunt 
Eunice  and  Dens'e  close  at  hand,  she  dared  not,  lest  she 
should  betray  the  secret  she  had  no  right  to  possess. 

"I'll  speak  to  him  of  his  mother,"  she  said„  and 
moistening  with  ice  the  lips  which  were  now  of  a.  purple 
hue  she  said  to  him  softly, 


POOR   HvrGH.  173 

"Mr.  Worthingtoii." 

"  Call  him  Hugh,'*  Aunt  Eunice  whispered,  and  Alice 
continued, 

"  Hugh,  do  you  know  I'm  speaking  to  you  ?  " 

She  bent  so  low  that  her  breath  lifted  the  rings  of  haif 
'romliis  forehead,  and  her  auburn  curls  swept  his  cheek* 
rherewas  a  quivering  of  the  lids,  a  scarcely  perceptible 
moan,  and  thus  encouraged,  Alice  continued, 

"Hugli,  shall  I  write  to  your  mother?  She's  gone,  you 
know,  with  'Lina." 

To  this  there  was  no  response,  and  taking  advantage 
of  something  outside  which  had  suddenly  attracted  her 
three  auditors  to  the  window,  Alice  said  again  softly,  lest 
she  should  be  heard, 

"Hugh,  shall  I  call  Golden  Haired?'' 

"Yes,  yes,  oh  yes,"  and  the  heavy  lids  unclosed  at  once, 
while  the  eyes,  in  which  there  was  no  ray  of  conscious- 
ness, looked  wistfully  at  Alice. 

"Are  you  the  Golden  Haired ?"  and  he  laid  his  hand 
caressingly  over  the  shining  tresses  just  within  his  reach, 

Alice  was  about  to  reply,  when  an  exclamation  from 
those  near  the  window,  and  the  heavy  tramp  of  horse's 
feet,  arrested  her  attention,  and  drew  her  also  to  the 
window,  just  as  a  beautiful  grey,  saddled  but  riderless, 
came  dashing  over  the  gate,  and  tearing  across  the  yardi 
until  he  stood  panting  at  the  door.  Rocket  had  come 
home  for  the  first  time  since  his  master  had  lead  him 
away ! 

Hearing  of  Hugh's  illness,  the  old  colonel  had  ridden 
over  to  inquire  how  he  was,  and  fearing  lest  it  might  be 
difficult  to  get  Rocket  away  if  once  he  stood  in  the 
familiar  yard,  he  had  dismounted  in  the  woods,  and 
fistening  him  to  a  tree,  walked  the  remaining  distance 
But  Rocket  was  not  thus  to  be  cheated.  Ever  since 
turning  into  the  well-remembered  lane  he  had  seemed 
like  a  new  creature,  pricking  up  his  ears,  and  dancing  and 


174  HUGH    WOETHINGTON. 

curvetting  daintily  along,  as  he  had  been  wont  to  do  on 
public  occasions  when  Hugh  was  his  rider  instead  of  the 
fat  colonel.  In  this  state  of  feeling  it  was  quite  natural 
that  he  should  resent  being  tied  to  a  tree,  and  as  if  divining 
why  it  was  done,  he  broke  his  halter  the  moment  tho 
colonel  was  out  of  sight,  and  went  galloping  through  th?^ 
woods  like  lightning,  never  for  an  instant  slackening  hia 
speed  until  he  stood  at  Spring  Bank  door,  calling,  as  well  as 
he  could  call,  for  Hugh,  who  heard  and  recognized  that  call. 

Throwing  his  arms  wildly  over  his  head,  he  raised 
himself  in  bed,  and  exclaimed  joyfully, 

"That's  he!  that's  Rocket!  I  knew  he'd  come.  I've 
only  been  waiting  for  him  to  start  on  that  long  journey 
PIo !  Aunt  Eunice !  Pack  my  clothes.  I'm  going  away 
where  I  shan't  mortify  Ad  any  more.  Hurry  up.  Rock 
et  is  growing  impatient.  Don't  you  hear  him  pawing  the 
turf?  I'm  coming,  my  boy,  I'm  coming  !  "  and  he  attempt- 
ed to  leap  upon  the  floor,  but  the  doctor's  strong  arm 
held  him  down,  wliile  Alice,  whose  voice  alone  he  heeded, 
strove  to  quiet  him. 

"I  wouldn't  go  away  to-day,"  she  said  soothingly. 
"  Some  other  time  will  do  as  well,  and  Rocket  can  wait." 

"  Will  you  stay  with  me  ?  "  Hugh  asked. 

"  Yes,  I'll  stay,"  was  Alice's  reply. 

"All  right,  all  right.  Tell  Claib  to  put  up  Rocket,  till 
another  day,  and  then  we'll  go  together,  you  and  I,"  and 
Hugh  sank  back  upon  his  pillow,  just  as  the  wheezy  col- 
onel come  in,  greatly  alarmed  and  surprised  to  find  the 
young  man  so  ill. 

"  It  beats  all,"  he  said,  "  how  symptoms  differ.  That 
buzzing  he  complained  of  wasn't  an  atom  like  my  wife's 
-beats  all;"  then  turning  to  Alice  he  delivered  a  raes- 
Bage  from  Ellen  who  was  better,  and  had  expressed  a  wish 
to  see  Miss  Johnson,  hoping  she  might  be  induced  to  re« 
turn  with  her  father. 


POOR   HUGH.  175 

But  Alice  would  not  leave  Hugh,  and  she  declined  the 
coloneFs  invitation. 

"  That's  right.  Stick  to  him,"  the  colonel  said.  "  lie's 
a  noble  fellow,  odd  as  Dick's  hat  band,  but  got  the  right 
kind  of  spirit.  Poor  boy.  It  makes  me  feel  to  see  hira 
some  as  I  felt  when  my  Hal  lay  ravin'  mad  with  the  dumb 
fever  in  his  head.  Poor  Hal!  He  is  up  in  the  grave-yard 
now.  Good  day  to  you  all.  I've  got  a  pesky  job  on  hand 
getting  t\  at  Rocket  home." 

And  the  colonel  was  right,  for  Rocket  stubbornly  re- 
fused to  move,  kicking  and  biting  as  he  had  done  once 
before  when  any  one  approached  him.  He  had  taken  his 
stand  near  by  the  block  where  Hugh  had  been  accustom- 
ed to  mount  him,  and  there  he  staid,  evidently  waiting  for 
his  master,  sometimes  glancing  toward  the  house  and  ut- 
tering a  low  whinney. 

"  I  reckon  I'll  have  to  leave  him  here  for  a  spell,"  the 
colonel  said  at  last  when  every  stratagem  had  been  re- 
sorted to  in  vain. 

"  Yes,  I  'specs  mas'r  will,"  returned  the  delighted  Claib, 
who,  had  let  one  or  two  good  opportunities  pass  for  seiz- 
ing Rocket's  bridle.  « I'll  get  Mas'r  Tiffton  anodder  nag," 
and  with  great  alacrity  the  negro  saddled  a  handsome  bay, 
on  which  the  colonel  was  soon  riding  away  from  Spring 
Bank,  leaving  Rocket  standing  patiently  by  the  block,  and 
waiting  for  the  master  who  might  never  come  to  him 
again. 

"I'm  glad  he's  roused  up,"  the  doctor  said  of  Hugh, 
"  though  I  don't  like  the  way  his  fever  increases,"  and 
Alice  knew  by  the  expression  of  his  face,  that  there  was 
but  liccle  hope,  determining  not  to  leave  him  during  the 
night. 

Aunt  Eunije  might  sleep  on  the  lounge,  she  said,  but 
the  care,  the  responsioility  should  be  hers.  To  this  the  doc- 
tor willingly  acceded,  thinking  that  Hugh  was  safer  with 
her  than  any  one  else.    Exchanging  the  white  wrapper 


176  HUGH   WORTniN».^ON. 

she  had  Tvom  through  the  day  for  one  more  suitable,  Al 
ice,. after  an  hour's  rest  in  her  own  room,  returned  to  Hugh, 
who  had  missed,  her  and  who  knew  the  moment  she  camo 
back  to  him,  even  though,  he  seemed  to  be  half  asleep. 

Softly  the  summer  twilight  faded  and  the  stars  camw 
out  one  by  one,  while  the  dark  night  closed  over  Spring 
Bank,  which  held  many  anxious  hearts.  Never  had  a 
cloud  so  black  as  this  fallen  upon  the  household.  There 
Iiad  been  noisy,  clamorous  mourning  when  John  Stanley 
died,  but  amid  that  storm  of  grief  there  was  one  great 
comfort  still,  Hugh  was  spared  to  them,  but  now  he,  too, 
was  leaving  them  they  feared,  and  the  sorrow  w^hich  at 
first  had  manifested  itself  in  loud  outcries  had  settled 
down  into  a  grief  too  deep,  too  heart-felt  for  noisy  demon- 
strations. In  the  kitchen  where  a  light  was  burning 
casting  fitful,  ghastly  glances  over  the  dusky  forms  con- 
gregated there,  old  Chloe,  as  the  patriarchess  of  the  flock, 
sat  with  folded  arms,  talking  to  those  about  her  of  her 
master's  probable  death,  counting  the  few  who  had  ever 
survived  that  form  of  fever,  and  speculating  as  to  who 
would,  be  their  next  owner.  Would  they  be  sold  at 
auction  ?  Would  they  be  parted  one  from  the  other,  and 
sent  they  knew  not  whither  ?  The  Lord  only  knew,  old 
Chloe  said,  as  the  hot  tears  rained  over  her  black  face, 

"  Mas'r  Hugh  won't  die,"  and  Maggins  faith  came  to 
the  rescue,  throwing  a  ray  of  hope  into  the  darkness: 
"  Miss  Alice  axed  God  to  spar  him,  and  so  did  I ;  now  he 
will,  won't  he,  miss  ?"  and  she  turned  to  Adah,  who  with 
Sam,  had  just  come  up  to  Spring  Bank,  and  hearing  voices 
m  the  kitchen  had  entered  there  first.  "  Say,  Miss  Adah, 
♦V'on't  God  cure  Mas'r  Hugh' —  case  I  axed  him  oncet  ?  " 

"You  must  pray  more  than  once,  child ;  pray  many, 
many  times,"  was  Adah's  reply ;  whereupon  Mug  looked 
aghast,  for  the  idea  of  praying  a  second  time  had  never 
entered  her  brain. 

Still,  if  she  must,  why,  she  must,  and  she  stole  quietly 


POOR   HUGH.  177 

from  the  kitchen.  But  it  was  now  too  durk  to  go  down 
in  the  woods  by  tne  running  brook,  and  remembering 
Alice  had  said  that  God  was  every  where,  she  first  cast 
around  her  a  timid  glance,  as  if  fearful  she  should  see  him, 
and  then  kneeling  in  the  grass,  wet  with  the  heavy  night 
dew,  the  little  negro  girl  prayed  again  for  Mastei-  Hijgb, 
starting  as  she  prayed  at  the  sound  which  met  her  ear 
and  which  came  from  the  spot  w^here  Rocket  was  standing 
by  the  block,  waiting  for  his  master. 

Claib  had  offered  him  food  and  drink,  but  both  had  been 
refused,  and  opening  the  stable  door  so  that  he  could  go  in 
whenever  he  chose,  Claib  had  left  him  there  alone. 

Muggins  knew  that  it  was  Rocket,  and  stole  up  to  him, 
whispering  as  she  laid  her  hand  on  his  neck, 

"  Poor  Rocket,  I'm  sory  too  for  Mas'r  Hugh,  but  he 
won,t  die,  'case  I've  prayed  for  him.  I  has  prayed  twicet, 
and  I  knows  now  he'll  live.  If  you  could  only  pray  —  I 
wonder  if  horses  can  ! "  and  thinking  she  would  ask  the 
n.ew  miss.  Mug  continued  to  stroke  the  horse,  who  suffered 
her  caress,  and  even  rubbed  his  face  against  her  arm,  eating 
the  tufl  of  grass  she  plucked  for  him.  Once  Mug  thought 
of  trying  to  lead  him  to  the  stall,  but  he  looked  so  tall 
and  formidable,  towering  up  above  her,  that  she  dared  not, 
and  after  a  few  more  assurances  that  Mas'r  Hugh  would 
live,  she  left  him  to  himself,  with  the  very  sensible  advice, 
that  if  she's  he,  she  wouldn't  ac  so,  but  would  go  to  bed, 
in  the  stable  like  a  good  boy." 

Returning  to  the  house  Mug  stole  up  stairs  to  the  door, 
of  the  sick  room,  where  Alice  was  now  alone  with  Hugh. 

He  was  awake,  and  for  an  instant  seemed  to  know 
Bcr,  for  "he  attempted  to  speak,  but  the  rational  words 
'died  on  his  lips,  and  he  only  moaned,  as  if  in  distress. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  Alice  said,  bending  over  him. 

"  Are  you  the  Golden  Haired  ?  "  he  asked  again  as  hei 
•lurls  swept  his  face. 
8* 


178  HUGH    WORTHIXGTON. 

"No,  I'm  not  Golden  Hair,"  she  answered,  soothingly 
« I'm  Alice,  ccfme  to  nurse  you.  You  have  heard  of  Alice 
Johnson.     'Lina  told  you  of  her." 

**-46?/"  he  almost  screamed.  "Do  you  know  Ad?  I 
am  sorry  for  you.  Who  are  you?  "  and  as  if  determined 
to  solve  the  mystery  he  raised  himself  upon  his  elbow 
and  stretching  out  his  hand,  pushed  her  flowing  curls  back 
from  her  sunny  face,  muttering  as  he  did  so,  "  '  There  an- 
gels do  always  behold  his  face.'  That's  in  her  Bible.  I'm 
reading  it  through.  I  began  last  winter,  when  Adah  came 
Have  you  heard  of  Adah  ?  " 

Alice  had  heard  of  Adah  and  suggested  sending  for 
her,  asking  "  if  he  would  not  like  to  have  her  come." 

"And  you  go  away?"  he  said,  grasping  her  hand  and 
holding  it  fast.  "  No,  you  must  not  go.  There's  some- 
thing in  your  face  that  makes  me  happy,  something  like 
hers.  When  I  say  her  or  she,  I  mean  Golden  Hair.  There's 
only  one  her  to  me." 

''  Who  is  Golden  Hair  ?  "  Alice  asked,  and  instantly  the 
great  tears  gathered  in  Hugh's  dark  eyes  as  he  replied, 

"Don't  say  who  is  she,  but  who  was  she.  I've  never 
told  a  living  being  before.  Golden  Hair  was  a  bright  angel 
who  crossed  my  path  one  day,  and  then  disappeared  forev- 
er, leaving  behind  the  sweetest  memory  a  mortal  man  ever 
possessed.  It's  weak  for  men  to  cry,  but  I  have  cried 
many  a  night  for  her,  when  the  clouds  were  crying,  too, 
and  I  heard  against  my  window  the  rain  whicU  I  knew 
was  falling  upon  her  little  grave." 

He  was  growing  excited,  and  thinking  he  had  talked 
too  much,  Alice  was  trying  to  quiet  him,  when  the  dooi^ 
opened  softly  and  Adah  herself  came  in.  Bowing  polite- 
ly to  Alice  she  advanced  to  Hugh's  bedside,  and  bending 
over  him  spoke  his  name.  He  knew  her,  and  turning  to 
Alice,  said,  "This  is  Adah ;  you  will  like  each  other;  I 
am  sure." 

And  they  did  like   each  other  at  once,  Alice  recogni- 


POOR    HUGH.  179 

zing  readily  a  refinement  of  feeling  and  manner  which 
showed  that  however  unfortunate  Adah  might  have  been, 
she  was  still  the  true-born  lady,  while  Adah  felt  intuitively 
that  in  Alice  she  had  found  a  friend  in  whom  she  could  trust 
For  a  few  moments  they  talked  together,  and  then 
in  the  hall  without  there  was  a  shuffling  sound  and  Adah , 
knew  that  Sam  was  coming.  AVith  hobbling  steps  the 
old  man  came  in,  scarcely  noticing  either  of  the  ladies  so 
intent  was  he  upon  the  figure  lying  so  still  and  helpless, 
before  him. 

"  Massah  Hugh,  my  poor,  dear  Massah  Hugh,"  he  cried, 
bending  over  his  young  master. 

"  You  may  disturb  him,"  Adah  said,  putting  from  her 
lap  little  Willie,  who  had  come  in  with  Sam,  and  at  whom 
Alice  had  looked  with  "wonder,  marvelling  at  the  striking 
resemblance  between  him  and  Hugh. 

"  Could  it  be  ?  "  and  Alice  grew^  dizzy  with  that  dread- 
ful thought.  "  Could  it  he  f  No,  no,  oli,  no.  Adah  was 
too  pure,  too  good,  while  Hugh  was  too  honorable,"  and 
Alice  felt  a  pang  at  this  injustice  to  both. 

Taking  the  child  in  her  lap  while  Adah  spoke  with  Sam 
fihe  smoothed  his  soft,  brown  hair,  and  scanned  his  infant- 
ile features  closely,  tracing  now  another  look  than  Hugh's, 
a  look  which  made  her  start  as  if  smitten  suddenly.  The 
eyes,  Uie  brow,  the  hair  were  Hugh's,  but  for  the  rest ; 
tlie  dc'icate  mouth,  with  its  dimpled  corners,  the  curve  ol 
the  lip,  the  nose,  the  whole  lower  part  of  the  face  was  like, 
oil,  so  like,  sweet  Amia  Hichards,  and  she  was  like  her 
brother.  Alice  had  heard  from  'Lina  that  Adah  professei 
to  have  had  a  husband  who  deserted  her  and  as  she  held 
Willie  in  her  lap,  there  were  all  sorts  of  fancies  in  aer 
bewildered  brain  nor  was  it  until  a  loud  outcry  fi-om  Sam, 
fell  on  her  ear  that  she  roused  herself  from  the  castle  she 
was  building  as  to  what  might  be  if  Willie  were  indeed 
of  the  Richard's  line.  Sam  had  turned  away  from  Hugh, 
and  with  his  usual  politeness  was  ab^int  making  his  obeia- 


180  nUGII    WOETIIIXGTON. 

ance  lo  Alice,  when  the  words,  "  Your  servant.  Miss,"  wei« 
changed  into  a  howl  of  joy,  and  falling  upon  his  knees,  he 
clutched  at  Alice's  dress,  exclaiming, 

"Now  de  Lord  be  praised,  I'se  found  her  again.  I'se 
found  Miss  Ellis,  an' I  feels  like  singin'  'Glory  Hallelujah. 
Does  ye  know  me,  lady  ?  Does  you  'member  shaky  ole 
darkey,  way  down  in  Virginny  ?  You  teach  him  de  way' 
an'  he's  tried  to  walk  dar  ever  sence.  Say,  does  yo-i  know 
ole  Sam?"  and  the  dim  eyes  looked  eagerly  into  Aiice'a 
face. 

She  did  remember  him,  and  for  a  moment  seemed  speech- 
less with  surj^rise,  then,  stooping  beside  him,  she  took  his 
shrivelled  hand  and  pressed  it  between  her  own,  asking 
how  he  came  there,  and  if  Hugh  had  always  been  his 
master. 

"  You  'splain.  Miss  Adah.  You  speaks  de  dictionary 
better  than  Sam,"  the  old  man  said,  and  thus  appealed' to, 
Adah  told  what  she  knew  of  Sam's  comini?  into  Hujrh's 
possession. 

"He  buy  me  just  for  kindness,  nothing  else,  for  Sam 
aint  wo'th  a  dime,  but  Massa  Hugh  so  good.  I  prays  for 
him  every  night,  and  I  asks  God  to  bring  you  and  him  to 
gether.  Oh,  I'se  happy  chile  to-night.  I  prays  wid  a  big 
heart,  'case  I  sees  Miss  Ellis'  again,"  and  in  his  great  joy 
Sam  kissed  the  hem  of  Alice's  dress,  crouching  at  her  feet 
and  regarding  her  with  a  look  almost  idolatrous. 

At  sight  of  his  nurse  Willie  had  slid  from  Alice's  lap 
and  with  his  arm  around  Sam's  neck,  was  lisping  the  only 
w^oids  he  as  yet  could  speak,  "  Up,  up,  Tam,  Willie  up,' 
meaning  that  he  must  be  taken.  Struggling  to  his  feet 
Sam  took  Willie  on  his  shoulder,  then  with  another  bless- 
ing on  Miss  Ellis  and  a  pitying  glance  at  Hugh,  he  left 
the  room,  Willie  looking  down  from  his  elevated  position 
triumphant  as  a  young  lord,  and  crowing  in  childish  glee 
as  he  buried  his  hands  in  Uncle  Sam's  white  wool. 

In  every  move  which  Willie  made  there  was  a  decided 


POOR   HUGH.  181 

ly  Ricbards'  air,  a  manner  such  as  would  have  been  ex 
pected  from  John  Richards'  sou  playing  in  the  balls  of 
Terrace  Hill. 

"Is  Willie  like  his  father?  "  Alice  asked  as  the  dooi 
closed  after  Sam. 
'     "  Yes,"  and  a  shadow  flitted  over  Adah's  face. 

She  did  not  like  to  talk  of  Willie's  father  and  was  glad 
when  Hugh  at  last  claimed  their  attention.  They  watch* 
ed  together  that  night,  tending  Hugh  so  carefully  tJiat 
when  the  morning  broke  and  the  physician  came,  he  pro- 
nounced the  symptoms  so  much  better  that  there  was  hope, 
he  said,  if  the  faithful  nursing  were  continued.  Still  Hugh 
remained  delirious,  lying  often  in  a  kind  of  stupor  from 
which  nothing  had  power  to  arouse  him  unless  it  were 
Alice's  voice,  whispering  in  his  ear  the  name  of  "  Golden 
Hair,"  or  the  cry  of  Rocket,  who  for  an  entire  week  wait- 
ed "patiently  by  the  block,  his  face  turned  towards  the  dooi 
whence  he  expected  his  master  to  appear.  During  the 
day  he  would  neither  eat  nor  drink,  but  Claib  always  found 
the  food  and  drink  gone,  which  was  left  in  the  stall  at 
night,  showing  that  Rocket  must  have  passed  the  hours  of 
darkness  in  his  old,  accustomed  place.  With  the  dawn  of 
day,  however,  he  returned  to  his  post  by  the  block,  and 
more  than  one  eye  filled  with  tears  at  sight  of  the  noble 
brute  waiting  so  patiently  and  calling  so  pitifully  for  one 
who  never  came.  But  Rocket  grew  tired  at  last,  and  they 
missed  him  one  morning  at  Spring  Bank,  wl^le  Col.  Tiff 
ton  on  that  same  morning  was  surprised  and  delighted  to 
find  him  standing  demurely  by  the  gate  and  offering  no 
Vc distance  when  they  lead  him  to  the  stable  which  he  nev- 
er tried  to  leave  again.  He  seemed  to  have  given  Hugh 
up  and  a  part  of  the  affection  felt  for  his  young  maste. 
was  transferred  to  the  colonel,  who  petted  and  caressed 
the  beautiftil  animal,  sighing  the  while  as  he  thought  how 
improbable  it  was  that  Hugh  ever  could  redeem  him,  and 
how  if  he  did  not,  the  time  was  coming  soon  when  Rook* 


182  HUGU    WORTIIINGTON. 

et  must  again  change  masters,  and  whei  Uarjiey's  long 
cherished  wish  to  possess  hira  would  undo  ibtedly  be  grata 
fied. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

ALICE  AXD  ADAH. 

At  Alice's  request,  Adah  and  Sam  staid  altogether  at 
Spring  Bank,  but  Alice  was  the  ruling  power — Alice, 
the  one  whom  Cbloe  and  Claib  consulted  ;  Alice  to  whom 
Aunt  Eunice  looked  for  counsel,  Alice,  who  remembered  all 
the  doctor's  directions,  taking  tlie  entire  charge  of  Hugh's 
medicines  herself —  and  Alice,  who  wrote  to  Mrs.  Worth- 
ington,  apprising  her  of  Hugh's  illness.  They  hoped  he 
was  not  dangerous,  she  said,  but  he  was  very  sick,  and 
Mrs.  Worthington  would  do  well  to  come  at  once.  She 
did  not  mention  'Lina,  but  the  idea  never  crossed  her 
mind  that  a  sister  coitld  stay  away  from  choice  when  a 
brother  was  so  ill ;  and  it  Avas  with  unfeigned  surpiise 
that  she  one  morning  saw  Mrs.  Worthington  and  Lulu 
alighting  at  tlie  gate,  but  no  'Lina  with  them. 

"  She  was  so  happy  at  Saratoga,"  Mrs.  Worthington 
Baid,  when  a  little  over  the  first  flurry  of  her  arrival. 
"So  happy,  too,  with  Mrs.  Richards  that  she  could  not 
tear  herself  away,  unless  her  mother  should  find  Hugh 
positively  dangerous,  in  which  case  she  should,  of  course, 
ccme  at  once." 

Tl.is  was  the  mother's  charitable  explanation,  made 
with  a  bitter  sigh  as  she  recalled  'Lina's  heartless  anger 
when  the  letter  was  received,  as  if  Hugh  were  to  blame,  as 
indeed,  'Lina  seemed  to  think  he  was. 

"  What  business  had  he  to  come  home  so  quick  ?  If  he'd 
Btaid  in  New^  Orleans,  he  might  not  have  had  the  fever. 


ALICE    AND    ADAH.  183 

Anj  way.  she  was'nt  going  home.  Alice  had  said  he  was 
not  dangerous  yet,  so  if  lier  raotlier  went,  that  waa 
enough ;  "  and  utterly  forgetful  of  tlie  many  weary  hours 
and  days  when  Hugh  had  watelied  by  her,  the  heartless 
girl  had  stifled  every  feeling  of  self  reproach,  and  huiried 
iier  mother  off,  entrusting  to  her  care  a  note  for  Alice 
who,  she  felt,  would  wonder  at  her  singular  conduct. 

Giving  the  note  to  Alice,  Mrs.  Worthington  hastened  to 
her  child,  with  whom  Adah  and  Sam  were  sitting.  He 
had  just  awakened  from  a  quiet  sleep,  and  knew  his  mother 
at  once.  Winding  his  arms  around  her,  he  kissed  her 
forehead  and  lips,  and  then  his  eyes  wandered  past  her 
towards  the  door  through  which  she  had  entered,  as  if 
in  quest  of  some  one  else.  His  mother  did  not  observe 
the  glance,  or  know  for  whom  he  was  looking  so  wistfully 
until  the  white  lips  whispered,  "  'Lina,  mother,  w^here  is 
Bhe?" 

It  was  strange  for  him  to  call  her  'Lina.  Indeed,  the 
mother  could  remember  no  other  time  when  he  had  done 
so,  but  he  called  her  'Lina  now,  speaking  it  tenderly,  as  if 
her  presence  woitld  be  very  welcome  to  him.  There  was  a 
hesitancy  on  the  part  of  the  mother,  and  then  she  said, 
"'Lina  staid  in  Saratoga.  She  is  very  happy  there.  She 
will  come  if  you  grow  worse.     She  sent  her  love." 

Poor  Mrs.  Worthington !  She  mentally  asked  forgive- 
ness for  this  fabrication.  'Lina  had  sent  no  love,  and  the 
mother  only  said  so  because  she  must  say  something. 
Wistfully,  eagerly,  Hugh's  eyes  sought  her's  for  a  moment, 
and  then  filled  with  tears  which  dropped  upon  the  pil- 
low. 

"  Did  you  want  'Lina  to  come  ? "  Mrs.  Worthingtoii 
asked, 

"Yes,"  and  Hugh's  lip  quivered  like  a  grieved  child, 
"  I'm  going  to  die,  and  I  wanted  to  tell  her  how  sorry  I 
am  for  the  harsh  things  I've  said  to  her.  I've  been  crazy 
some,  I  guess,  for  nothing  was  clear  in  my  mind  —  nothing 


184  HUGH    W0KTniNl5T0N. 

luit  the  words  '*  Forgive  as  ye  would  be  forgiven.'  They 
were  the  last  I  ever  read  in  that  little  Bible  you  never 
saw.  It's  in  my  trunk,  and  when  I'm  gone  you'll  give  it 
to  Miss  Jolinson.  I  tliink  she's  here;  and  you'll  tell 
'T.ina  1  was  sorry,  and  if— if — if  she's  ever  sorry,  tell 
her  I  fororive  her,  and  wanted  her  to  come  so  much.  I 
thought,  maybe,  she'd  Kiss  me  ;  she  never  has  since  she  waa 
a  little  child.  If  she  comes  before  you  put  me  out  of 
sight,  ask  her  to  kiss  me  in  tlie  coffin,  because  I  was  hei 
brother.  I  shall  be  sure  to  know  it.  Will  you,  moth 
er?" 

Mrs.  Worthington  could  only  sob  as  she  pressed  the 
hands  she  held  between  her  own  and  tiied  to  quiet  him. 

Meantime  Alice,  in  her  own  room,  was  reading  'Lina's 
note,  containing  a  most  glowing  descripti(m  of  the  delight- 
ful time  she  was  having  at  Saratoga,  and  how  hard  it  would 
be  to  leave. 

"  I  know  d^ar  Hugh  is  in  goo'l  hands,"  she  wrote,  "  and 
it  is  so  pleasant  here  that  I  really  do  want  to  stay  a  little 
longer.  What  a  delightful  lady  that  Mrs.  Richards  is  — 
not  one  b't  stiff  as  I  can  see.  I  don't  know  what  people 
mean,  to  call  her  proud.  She  has  promised,  if  mamma 
will  leave  me  here,  to  be  my  chaperon,  and  it's  possible  we 
may  visit  New"  York  together,  so  as  to  be  there  when  the 
Prince  arrives.  Won't  that  be  grand  ?  She  talks  so 
much  of  you  that  sometimes  I'm  really  jealous.  Perhaps 
I  may  go  to  Terrace  Hill  before  I  return,  but  I  rather 
hope  not,  it  makes  me  fidgetty  to  think  of  meeting  the 
Misses  Richards,  though,  of  course,  I  know  I  shall  like  them, 
I?  -articularly  Anna." 

Not  a  word  was  there  in  this  letter  of  the  doctor,  but 
A.lice  understood  it  all  the  same.  He  w^as  the  attraction 
which  kept  the  selfish  girl  from  her  brother's  side.  "  May 
i«he  be  happy  w^ith  him,"  was  Alice's  mental  comment, 
shuddering  as  she  n^called  the  time  when  she  \s  as  pleased 
with  the  handsome  doctor,  and  silently  thanking  God  who 
had  saved  her  from  much  sorrow. 


ALICE    AXD    ADAH.  185 

Just  then  Adah  came  in,  and  sitting  down  by  the  -^v-iii 
dow  seemed  to  be  looking  at  something  far  away,  some- 
thing, which  brought  to  her  face  the  sad  hopeless  express- 
ion, which  Alice  had  often  observed  before.  Drawing  near 
to  her  Alice  said  softly,  « Of  what  are  you  thinkina 
Adah?"  ^ 

There  were  no  resei-ves  now  between  the  two  girls,  and 
aying  her  head  in  Alice's  lap,  Adah  sobbed,  "Tm  think- 
mg  of  Willie's  father.  Will  he  never  come  back  ?  Can 
it  be  he  meant  to  deceive  me.  Miss  Johnson  ?  "  and  Adah 
lifted  up  her  head,  disclosing  a  face  which  Alice  scarcely 
recognized,  for  the  strange  expression  there.  "  Miss  John- 
eon,  if  I  knew  that  George  deliberately  planned  my  ruin 
under  the  guise  of  a  mock  marriage,  and  then  when  it 
suited  him  deserted  me  as  a  toy  of  which  he  was  tired,  1 
should  hate  him  I " 

She  hissed  the  words  between  her  shut  teeth,  and  Alice 
involuntarily  shuddered  at  the  hard,  relentless  look,  which 
only  a  deceived,  deserted  woman  can  wear.  She  did  not 
dream  that  Adah,  who  had  seemed  so  gentle,'  so  good,  could 
put  on  such  a  look,  and  she  gazed  at  her  in  astonish- 
ment, as  in  clear,  determined  tones  she  repeated  the  words, 
"  Yes,  I  should  hate  him!  " 

"I  know  it's  wrong,"  she  continued,  "and  I've  asked 
God  many  a  time  to  take  the  feeling  away,  but  it's  in  me 

■  yet,  and  sometimes,  when  I  get  to  thinking  of  the  time 
before  he  came,  when  I  was  a  happy,  innocent  school-girl, 
without  a  care  for  anything,  my  heart  turns  into  stone, 
and  the  prayer  I  would  say  will  not  come.    Miss  Johnson, 

>you  don't  know  what  it  is  to  love  with  your  whole  soul 
one  who,  to  all  appearance,  was  worthy  of  your  love,  and 

who,  the  world  would  say,  was  above  you  in  position 

to  trust  him  implicitly,  to  worship  the  very  earth  he  trod, 
to  feel  'twas  Heaven  where  he  was,  to  have  no  shadow  of 

suspicion,  to  believe  yourself  his  lawful  wife,  and  then 

pome  dreadful  morning  wake  up  and  find  him  gone,  you 


186  HUGH    WORTHINGTON. 

know  not  where  —  to  wait  and  watch  through  weary 
weeks  and  months  of  agonizing  pain,  and  then  to  hear  at 
last,  in  his  own  handwriting,  that  you  were  not  a  wife, 
that  the  whole  was  a  mockery,  a  marriage  of  convenieace, 
which  circumstances  rendered  it  necessary  for  him  to 
break,  that  his  proud  family  would  not  receive  you,  that 
though  he  loved  you  still,  his  bride  must  be  rich  to  please 
his  aristocratic  mother,  and  then  to  end  with  the  hope 
thrown  out  that  sometime  he  might  come  back  and  make 
you  truly  his.  But  for  that  1  should  have  died,  and,  as  it 
was,  I  felt  my  heart-strings  snapping,  one  by  one,  felt  the 
blood  freezing  in  my  veins,  felt  that  I  was  going  mad.  I 
frighten  you.  Miss  Johnson,"  she  said,  as  she  saw  how- 
Alice  shrunk  away  from  the  dark  eyes  in  which  there 
was  a  fierce,  resentful  gleam,  unlike  sweet  Adah  Hastings. 
"  I  used  to  frighten  myself  when  I  saw  in  my  eyes  the  de- 
mon which  whispered  suicide." 

"  Oh,  Adah,  Mrs.  Hastings,"    and  Alice  involuntarily 
wound  her  arm  around  the  young  girl-woman  as  if  to 
shield  her  frorn  sin.     "  You  could  not  have  dreamed   of 
.that!" 

"  I  did,"  and  Adah  spoke  sadly  now.  "  I  forgot  God 
awhile,  and  He  left  me  to  myself,  but  followed  me  still, 
going  with  me  all  through  those  crowded  streets, 
close  at  my  side,  though  I  did  not  know  it,  and  holding 
me  back  at  the  last  moment,  when  the  tempter  was  abmt 
to  triumph,  and  the  river  rolling  at  my  feet  looked  so  ii:.-^ 
Invitingly  to  poor,  half  crazed  me.  He  put  other  thoughts 
in  my  head,  and  where  I  went  to  throw  my  life  away,  I 
knelt  down  and  prayed.  It  was  kind  in  God  to  save  me, 
and  I've  tried  to  love  Him  better  since,  to  thank  Him  for 
His  great  goodness  in  leading  me  to  Hugh,  as  He  surely 
did ;  but  there's  something  savage  in  ray  nature,  which 
has  not  been  all  subdued,  and  sometimes  I'm  rebellious, 
just  as  you  see  me  now,  and  my  heart,  w^hich  at  first  waa 
full  of  love  for  George,  goes  out  against  him  for  his  base 
treachery." 


ALICE    AXD    ADAH.  187 

"■  And  yet  you  love  him  still  ?  "  Alice  said,  inquiriugly 
as  she  smoothed  the  beautiful  brown  hair. 

"  I  suppose  I  do.  A  kind  word  from  him  would  bring 
me  back,  but  will  it  ever  be  spoken  ?  Shall  we  ever  meet 
again  ?  " 

She  was  silent  a  moment,  and  then  Alice  said,  "  I  do 
not  seek  your  confidence  unless  you  are  willing  to  give  it. 
As  you  have  told  me  your  story  in  part,  will  you  tell  me 
the  whole?" 

There  was  no  vindictiveness  now  in  Adah's  face,  and 
the  soft  brown  eyes  drooped  mournfully  beneath  the  heavy 
lashes  as  she  told  the  story  of  her  wrongs.  Told  of 
a  young  girl  at  Madam  Dupont's  school,  of  the  elegant 
stranger  present  at  one  examination,  and  who  watched 
her  w^ith  unfeigned  interest  as  she  worked  out  upon  the 
board  a  most  difficult  problem  in  Euclid,  standing  so  near 
to  her  that  once  when  she  accidentally  dropped  her  crayon 
he  picked  it  up  and  offered  it  to  her  with  a  few  whispered 
words  of  commendation  for  her  skill  in  mathematics.  Of 
a  chance  meeting  in  the  street.  Of  walks  and  rides,  and 
blissful  interviews  at  her  own  cozy  little  room  in  the 
boarding-house,  where  she  had  lived  for  years.  Of  mar- 
riage proposed  at  last,  and  sanctioned  by  her  guardian. 
Of  the  necessity  urged  upon  her  why  it  should  be  kept  a 
secret  until  the  proud  relatives  were  reconciled.  Of  go- 
ing one  night  with  her  lover,  her  guardian  and  another  wit- 
ness, far  out  into  the  suburbs  of  the  city  to  the  house  of 
a  justice,  who  made  her  George's  wife.  Of  her  guardian's 
sudden  departure,  she  knew  not  whither.  Of  a  removal^ 
to  another  boarding-house  more  obscure,  and  in  a  part  of  4. 
the  city  where  she  never  met  again  with  any  whom  she 
had  known  before.  Of  months  of  perfect  happiness. 
Of  the  hope  growing  within  her  that  she  was  gradually 
leading  George  to  God.  Of  letters  from  home  which  made 
him  blue,  and  which  she  never  saw\  Of  his  leaving  her  at 
ast  without  a  word  or  sign  that  he  was  going  or  had  grown 


188  UUGH    WORTHINGTON. 

weary  of  her.  Of  tlie  terrible  suspense,  the  cruel  letter, 
the  attempt  to  take  her  life,  of  Willie's  birth,  of  her  being 
turned  from  the  house  as  a  disreputable  character,  and 
coming  at  last  to  Spring  Bank  in  quest  of  Hugh,  and  of 
the  gradual  dying  out,  as  she  sometimes  feared,  of  her  love 
or  George  Hastings. 

"  And  Hugh  ?  "  Alice  said,  when  Adah  paused.  "  Why 
did  you  come  to  him  ?     Had  you  known  him  before  ?  " 

"Husch  was  that  other  witness.  I  never  saw  him  till 
that  night,  neither,  I  think,  did  George.  My  guardian 
planned  the  whole." 

"  Hugh  Worthington  is  not  the  man  I  took  him  for," 
and  x\lice  spoke  bitterly,  a  look  of  horror  on  her  face  which 
Adah  quickly  detected. 

"You  mistake  him,"  she  cried  eagerly.  "  He  is  all  you 
imagine  him  to  be,  the  noblest,  truest  man,  and  the  best 
friend  I  ever  had.  My  guardian  possessed  a  most  singular 
power  over  all  young  men,  and  Hugh  was  fresh  from  the 
country.  I  don't  know  where  or  how  they  met,  but  at  a 
hotel,  I  think.  He  did  not  know  it  was  a  farce.  He  went 
in  perfect  good  faith,  although  he  says  since  that  it  did 
once  occur  to  him  that  something  might  be  wrong. 

"And   your  guardian,"    interrupted  Alice,   "is  it  not 
strange  that  he  should  have  acted  so  cruel  a  part,  partic 
ularly  if,  as  you  sometimes  fancied,  he  was  your  father?" 

"  Yes,  that's  the  strangest  part  of  all.  I  cannot  under- 
stand it,  or  where  he  is,  though  1  sometimes  imagined  he 
^must  be  dead,  or  in  prison,"  and  Adah  thought  of  what 
Sam  had  said  concerning  Sullivan,  the  negro  stealer. 
'  "  What  do  you  mean  ;  why  should  he  be  in  prison  ?  " 
Alice  asked  in  some  surprise,  and  Adah  replied  by  telling 
her  what  Sam  had  said,  and  the  reason  she  had  for  think- 
ing Sullivan  and  her  guardian,  Redfield,  one  and  the 
same. 

Just  then  Willie's  voice  was  heard  in  the  hall,  and  lias- 
tening  to  the  door  Alice  admitted  him  into  the  room* 


ALICE    AND    ADAH.  189 

Taking  him  in  her  lap  she  kissed  his  rosy  cheek,  and  push- 
ing back  his  soft  curls  said  to  Adah,  "Do  you  know  I 
think  he  looks  like  Hugh  f  " 

"  Yes,"  and  Adah  spoke  sadly.     "  I  know  he  does,  and 
I  am  sorry  for  Hugh's  sake,  as  it  must  annoy  him.     Nei- 
ther can  I  account  for  it,  for  I  am  certainly  nothing  to^ 
Hugh.     But  there's  another  look  in  Willie's  face,  his  fath 
er's.     Oh,  Miss  Johnson,  George  was  handsome,  and  'twas 
his  face  which  first  attracted  me." 

"  Can  you  describe  him,  or  will  it  be  too  painful  ?"  Al- 
ice asked,  and  forcing  back  her  tears,  Adah  told  how 
George  Hastings  looked,  while  Alice's  hands  worked  ner- 
vously together,  and  her  heart  beat  almost  audibly,  for, 
save  the  absence  of  moustache  and  whiskers,  which  might 
have  been  grown  since,  Adah  was  describing  Dr.  Mich' 
arch. 

"And  you've  never  seen  him  since,  nor  heard  from  him, 
nor  guessed  where  his  mother  lived  ?  " 

"Never,  and  when  only  the  wrong  is  remembered,  I 
think  I  never  care  to  see  or  hear  from  him  again ;  but 
when  the  love  I  bore  him  comes  surging  back,  as  it  some- 
times does,  I'd  crawl  to  the  end  of  the  world  for  one  more 
tender  look  from  him.  I'd  lay  his  boy  at  his  feet  and  die 
there  myself  so  willingly.  I  used  to  form  all  sorts  of  cas- 
tles about  his  coming  after  me,  but  they  are  all  blown 
down,  and  I've  learned  to  look  the  future  in  the  face,  to 
know  that  I  must  meet  it  alone.  I  wish  there  was  some- 
thing I  could  do  to  relieve  Hugh  of  the  expense  I  am  to 
him.  I  did  not  know  till  after  I  was  sick  last  spring  how^ 
very  poor  he  was,  and  how  many  self-denials  he  had  to 
make  for  his  family.  I  heard  his  mother  talking  with 
Annt  Eunice  when  they  thought  I  was  asleep,  and  it 
filmost  broke  my  heart.  He  goes  without  decent  clothes 
without  a  fire  in  his  room  on  Vv'intry  nights,  goes  without 
every  thing,  and  then  ''Lina  calls  him  mean  and  stingy. 
The  noble,  self-denying  Hugh !     I  would  almost  die  for 


190  nUGJI    WOUTHINGTON. 

him ;  and  I  aisk  God  every  day  to  bring  hi  n  some  good 
fortune  at  last." 

"I  never  knew  that  Mr.  Worthington  was  so  straight- 
ened said  Alice.  Was  Rocket  sold  to  Col.  Tifflon  £ot 
debt?" 

■"  "  Yes,  for  'Lina's  debts,  contracted  at  Harney's  and  for 
my  sick  bills,  too.  I've  cried  the  hardest  over  that,  for  I 
know  how  Hugh  loved  that  horse,  but  the  worst  ot  it  is 
that  Col.  Tiffion  has  in  some  way  become  indebted  to 
Harney  for  an  immense  sum  of  money.  I  don't  under- 
stand it,  but  the  colonel  signed  a  note  for  ten  thousand 
dollars  with  somebody  and  for  somebody,  both  of  which 
gomebodys  have  failed,  and  the  colonel  has  to  pay.  It 
will  take  his  home,  they  say,  and  his  personal  property, 
including  Rocket,  whom  Harney  is  determined  to  secure. 
I've  heard  of  his  boasting  that  Hugh  should  yet  be  com- 
pelled to  see  him  galloping  down  the  pike  upon  his  idol." 

"  He  never  shall !  "  and  Alice  spoke  under  her  breath, 
asking  further  questions  concerning  the  sale  of  Colonel 
Tiffi,on's  house,  and  how  much  Mosside  was  worth. 

Adah  could  not  tell.  She  only  knew  that  Rocket  was 
pawned  for  five  hundred  dollars.  "  Once  I  insanely  hoped 
that  I  might  help  redeem  him  —  that  God  would  find  a 
work  for  me  to  do  —  and  my  heait  was  so  hai>py  for  a 
moment." 

«  What  did  you  think  of  doing?  "  Alice  asked,  glancing 
at  the  delicate  young  girl,  who  looked  so  unaccustomed 
to  toil  of  any  kind. 

**  I  thought  to  be  a  governess  or  waiting-maid,"  and 
^ Adah's  lip  began  to  quiver  as  she  told  how,  before  coming 
to  Spring  Bank,  she  had  advertised  for  such  a  situation ; 
how  she  had  waited  and  watched  for  an  answer,  and  how 
at  last  it  came,  or  at  least  the  words  seemed  addressed  to 
her,  and  she  had  thought  to  answer  it,  but  had  been  dis- 
couraged  by  'Lin a. 

**  Do  you  remember  the  address  ?  "  and  Alice  waited  cu- 
riously for  the  answer. 


ALICE    AND    ADAH.  191 

"  Yes,  *  A.  E.  R,  Sxowdon.'  You  came  from  Sno\^'don, 
Miss  Johnson,  and  I've  wanted  so  much  to  ask  if  you 
knew*A.  E.  R.,' 

Alice  was  confounded.  Surely  the  leadings  of  Provi- 
dence were  too  plainly  evident  to  be  unnoticed.  There 
1^-as  a  reason  why  Adah  Hastings  naust  go  to  Anna  Rich- 
ards,  and  Alice  hastened  to  explain  who  the  Richards  fam- 
ily were, 

"  Oh,  I  can't  go  there.     They  are  too  proud.      They 
(vould  hate  me  for  Willie,  and  ask  me  for  his  father,"  Ad- 
ah cried,  the  tears  breaking  through  the  fingers  she  press 
ed  before  her  eyes. 

Very  gently  Alice  talked  to  her  of  Anna,  so  lovely  in 
disposition,  so  beautiful  in  her  mature  womanhood. 
Adah  would  be  happy  with  her,  she  said,  and  Anna  would 
be  a  second  mother  to  her  child.  She  did  not  hint  of  hot 
suspicions  that  at  Terrace  Hill  Adah  would  find  George 
for  fear  she  might  be  mistaken,  but  she  talked  of  SnoW' 
don  and  Anna  Richards,  whom  Adah  was  sure  to  like. 

"  I'm  so  glad  for  your  sake  that  it  has  come  round  at 
last,"  she  said.  "  Will  you  write  to  her  to-day,  or  shall  I 
for  you  ?     Perhaps  I  had  better." 

"  No,  no,  oh,  no  —  and  Adah's  voice  trembled,  for  she 
shrank  nervously  from  the  thought  of  meeting  the  Rich 
ards  family. 

If  'Lina  liked  the  old  lady,  she  certainly  could  not,  and 
the  very  thought  of  these  elder  sisters,  in  all  their  prim- 
ness, dismayed  and  disheartened  her. 

"  There's  a  young  man,  is  there  not  —  a  Dr.  Richards  ?  ^ 
slie  asked. 

"  Y<is ;  but  he  is  not  often  at  home.  He  need  be  no  bug- 
lear.  He  is  practicing  in  New  York,  when  practicing  at 
all.    At  present  he  is  at  Saratoga." 

Adah  looked  up  qiiickly,  guessing,  in  a  moment,  what 
was  keeping  'Lina  there,  and  feeling  more  averse  than 
ever  to  Terrace  Hill. 


192  HUGH    WORTIIINGTON. 

Gradually,  however,  as  Alice  continued  to  talk  c»f  Anna, 
her  feelings  changed  and  she  said  at  last,  "I  will  go  to 
Miss  Richards,  but  not  till  Hugh  is  better,  not  till  he 
knows  and  approves.  Do  you  think  it  will  be  long  before 
he  regains  his  reason  !  " 

Alice  could  not  tell.  She  hoped  for  the  best,  and 
U  s)uglit  with  Adah  that  she  ought  to  stay  until  he  could 
be  consulted. 

"Do  you  correspond  with  Miss  Richards?"  Adah  sud- 
denly asked,  after  a  long  reverie. 

"No,  she  dreads  writing  letters  above  all  things  else, 
"Nvhile  I  am  a  wretchedly  negligent  correspondent.  I  will 
send  a  note  of  introduction  by  you,  though." 

"  Please  don't  and  Adah  spoke  pleadingly,  "  I  should 
have  to  give  it  if  you  did,  and  I'd  rather  go  by  myself. 
I  know  it  would  be  better  to  have  your  influence,  but  it 
is  a  fancy  of  mine  not  to  say  that  I  ever  knew  you  or  any 
one  at  Spring  Bank.  I  imagine  this  Dr.  likes  'Lina,  and 
they  might  question  me  of  her.  I  could  not  say  much 
that  was  good,  and  I  should  not  like  to  say  bad  things 
of  Hugh's  sister.  Then,  too.  Miss  Richards  never  need 
know  of  my  past  life  unless  I  choose  to  let  her,  as  I 
should  have  to  do  in  telling  her  how  I  came  at  Spring 
Bank." 

Alice  could  understand  Adah's  motives  in  part,  and 
feeling  sure  that  whatever  she  might  say  would  be  tlie 
truth,  she  did  not  press  the  matter,  but  suffered  her  to 
proceed  in  her  own  way.  Now  it  was  settled  that  Adah 
should  go,  she  felt  a  restless,  impatient  desire  to  be  gone, 
questioning  the  doctor  closely  with  regard  to  Hugh,  who 
it  seemed  to  her,  would  never  waken  from  the  state  of ' 
anconsciousness  into  w^hich  he  had  fallen,  and  from  whiel 
he  only  rallied  for  an  instant,  just  long  enough  to  recocr- 
nize  his  mother,  but  never  Alice  or  herself,  both  of  whom 
watched  over  him  day  and  night,  waiting  anxiously  for 
the  first  symptom  which  should  herald  his  return  to  rea« 
son. 


WAKING  TO  CONSCIOUSNESS.  198 


CHArXEH  XXII. 

WAKING    TO   CONSCIOUSNESS. 

The  warm  still  days  of  September  were  gone  and  a  wild 
October  storm  was  dying  out  in  a  gentle  shower,  when 
Hugh  awoke  from  the  sleep  which  had  so  long  hung  over 
him,  and  listened,  with  a  vague  kind  of  delicious  happi- 
ness, to  the  lulling  music  of  the  rain  falling  so  softly  upon 
the  window  sill,  and  sifting  through  the  long  boughs  of 
the  trees,  visible  from  where  he  lay.  Gazing  about  him 
in  a  maze  of  perplexity,  he  wondered  what  had  happened, 
or  where  he  could  be. 

«  I  must  have  been  sick,"  he  whispered,  and  pressing  his 
hand  to  his  head,  he  tried  to  recall  and  form  info  some  de- 
finite shape  the  events  which  had  seemed,  and  which  seem- 
ed to  him  still,  like  so  many  phantoms  of  the  brain. 

Was  it  a  dream  —  liis  mother's  tears  upon  his  face,  his 
mother's  sobs  beside  him?  Was  it  a  dream  that  Adah 
had  bent  over  him  with  words  of  tenderness,  praying  for 
him  that  he  might  not  die,  as  he  was  sure  he  had  heard 
her  ?  And,  —  oh  how  Hugh  started  as  he  thought  this ;  — 
Was  it,  all  a  dream  that  the  Golden  Haired  had  been  with 
him  constantly  ? 

No,  that  was  not  a  dream,  and  Hugh  lay  panting  on 
liis  pillow,  as  gleam  after  gleam  flashed  across  his  mind, 
bringing  remembrance  of  the  many  times  w^hen  another 
voice  than  Adah's  had  asked  that  he  might  live,  had  plead- 
ed as  only  Golden  Hair  could  plead  with  God  for  him.  She 
(lid  not  hate  him,  else  she  had  not  prayed,  and  words  of 
thanksgiving  were  going  up  to  Golden  Hair's  God,  when 
a  footstep  in  the  hall  announced  the  approach  of  some  one. 
Alice  perhaps,  and  Hugh  lay  very  still,  with  half  shut 


194  HUGH   WORTHINGTON. 

eyes,  until  Muggins,  instead  of  Alice,  appeared.  She  had 
been  deputed  to  watch  by  her  master  while  the  family 
were  at  dinner,  pleased  with  the  confidence  reposed  in  her 
determined  strictly  to  obey  Alice's  injunction  to  be  very 
quiet,  and  not  wake  him  if  he  were  sleeping. 

He  was  asleep,  she  said,  as,  standing  on  tiptoe,  she 
scanned  his  face,  in  her  own  dialect.  Muggins  talked  to 
herself  about  him  as  he  lay  there  so  still,  not  a  muscle 
moving,  save  those  about  the  corners  of  his  mouth,  where 
a  smile  was  struggling  for  life,  as  Hugh  listened  to  Mug'g 
remarks. 

"  Nice  Mas'r  Hugh  —  most  as  white  as  Miss  Alice.  De 
sweat  has  washed  de  dirt  all  off.  Pretty  Mas'r  Hugh!" 
and  Mug's  little  black  hand  was  laid  caressingly  on  the 
face  she  admired  so  much.  "  I  mean  to  ask  God  about 
him,  just  like  I  see  Miss  Alice  do,"  she  continued,  and 
stealing  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  room,  Muggins  kneeled 
down,  and  with  her  face  turned  towards  Hugh,  she  said, 
first,  the  prayer  taught  by  Alice  after  an  immense  amount 
of  labor  and  patience,  after  which  she  continued,  "  If 
God  is  hearin'  me,  will  he  please  do  all  dat  Miss  Alice  ax 
him  'bout  curin'  Mas'r  Hugh,  only  not  take  him  to  heav- 
en as  she  say,  and  sense  Mug,  who  is  nothin'  but  poor 
little  lazy  nigger,  all-us  round  under  foot." 

This  was  too  much  for  Hugh.  The  sight  of  that  ig- 
norant negro  child,  kneeling  by  the  window,  with  her 
hands  clasped  sup])licatingly  together,  as  she  prayed  for 
him  in  imitation  of  the  Golden-Haired,  unmanned  hira 
entirely,  and  hiding  his  head  beneath  the  sheets,  he 
sobbed  aloud.  With  a  nervous  start.  Mug  arose  frora 
her  knees,  and  coming  towards  him,  stood  for  an  instant 
gazing  in  mute  terror  at  the  trembling  of  the  bed-clotht*i 
which  hid  her  master  from  sight. 

"  I'll  bet  he's  in  a  fit.  I  mean  to  screechy  for  Miss 
Alice,"  and  Muggins  was  about  darting  away,  when 
Hugh's  long  arm  caught  and  held  her  fast.    "Oh,  de  gia« 


WAKING    TO    CONSCIOUSNESS.  195 

cious,  Mas'r  Hugh,"  she  cried,  "you  skeers  me  so. 
Does  you  know  me,  Mas'r  Hugh  ?  "  and  somewhat  reliev- 
ed by  the  expression  of  his  flice,  she  took  a  step  towards 
him. 

"  Yes,  I  know  you,  and  I  want  to  talk  a  little.  Wheie 
mu  I,  Mug  ?     What  room,  I  mean  ?  " 

"  Why,  Miss  Alice's  in  course.  She  'sisted,  and  'sisted, 
till  'em  brung  you  in  here,  'case  she  say  it  cool  and  nice 
01 ,  Miss  Ahce  so  fine." 

"  In  Miss  Johnson's  room,"  and  Hugh  looked  perfectly 
bewildered,  while  Mug  explained  how  Miss  Alice  "had 
prayed  for  Mas'r  Hugh,  and  cried  for  Mas'r  Hugh,  and 
she  didn't  know  but  she  had  actually  kissed  Mas'r  Hugh  ; 
any  way,  she  got  mighty  clus  to  him  sometimes. 
"  Where  is  she  now  ?  "  Hugh  asked,  and  Mug  replied, 
"Eatin  her  dinner,  she  watched  las'  night  and  bimeby 
she's  gwine  to  lie  down.  1  hearn  her  say  so,  an'  old  Miss 
comin'  to  set  long  of  you  !  " 

Hugh  felt  a  pang  of  disappointment  that  he  should  not 
probably  see  Alice  that  afternoon.  But  she  needed  sleep, 
he  knew,  and  he  was  mentally  chiding  himself  for  his 
selfishness,  when  his  mother  stepped  into  the  room. 
She  looked  so  pale  and  thin  that  Hugh  involuntarily 
groaned  as  he  thought  how  she  had  grown  weary  and 
worn  for  him  who  had  sometimes  accused  her  of  indiffer- 
ence. The  groan  caught  Mrs.  Worthington's  ear,  and 
bending  over  him  she  said, 

"  What  is  it,  Hugh  ?  "  "  Are  you  worse  ?  Do  you  want 
anything  ?  " 

"No,  I'm  better  — the  cobwebs  are  gone.  I  am  myself 
again  —  dear,  darling  mother"  and  Hugh  stretched  nig 
hands  towards  her. 

"  Oh,  my  boy,  I  am  so  glad,  so  glad  !  God  is  good  to 
give  you  back,  when  I've  never  served  Him  ill  my  life, 
but  I'm  trying  to  now.  Oh,  Hugh,  my  heart  is  so  full,'' 
and  Mrs.  Worthington's  tears  dropped  fast,  as  like  a  wea« 


196  HUGH  WORTHINGTOW. 

ry  child,  whi(;h  wanted  to  be  soothed,  she  laid  her  head 
upon  his  bosom,  crying  quietly. 

And  Hugh,  stronger  now  than  she,  held  the  poor,  tired 
head  there,  and  kissed  the  white  forehead,  where  there 
were  more  wrinkles  than  when  he  last  observed  it. 

Folding  his  weak  arms  about  her,  mother  and  son  wep 
together  in  that  moment  of  perfect  understanding  and 
union  with  each  other.  Hugh  was  the  first  to  rally.  It 
seemed  so  pleasant  to  lean  on  him,  to  know  that  he  cared 
so  much  for  her,  that  Mrs.  Worthington  would  gladly  have 
rested  on  his  bosom  longer,  but  Hugh  who  noticed  that 
she  held  an  open  letter  in  her  hand  brought  her  back  to 
something  of  the  old,  sad  life,  by  asking. 

"  If  the  letter  were  from  'Lina  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  I  cant  make  it  all  out  you  know  she  writes 
80  blind." 

"  It  never  troubles  me,  and  I  feel  perfectly  able  to  read 
it,"  Hugh  said,  and  taking  the  letter  fi-om  her  unresisting 
hand,  he  asked  that  another  pillow  should  be  placed 
beneath  his  head,  while  he  read  it  aloud. 

The  pillow  was  arranged,  and  then  Mrs.  Worthington 
sat  down  upon  the  bed  to  hear  the  letter,  which  read  as 
follows : 

«  FiFTU  Avenue  Hotel,  New  York, 

"October,  1860: 

**Dear  Mother,  — 

•^  What  a  little  eternity  it  is  since  I  heard  from  you,  and 
Low  am  I  to  know  that  you  are  not  all  dead  and  buried. 
Were  it  not  that  no  news  is  good  news,  I  should  some- 
times fancy  that  Plugh  was  worse,  and  feel  terribly  for  not 
having  gone  home  when  you  did.  But  of  course  if  he 
were  worse,  you  would  write,  and  so  I  settle  down  upon 
that,  and  quiet  my  troublesome  conscience. 

"Now,  then,  to  business,  I  want  Hugh  to  send  mo  some 
money,  or  all  is  lost.    Let  me  explain. 


WAKING    TO   CONSCIOUSNESS.  197 

**  Here  I  am  at  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel,  as  good  as  any  la- 
dy, if  my  purse  is  almost  empty.  Plague  on  it,  why  didn't 
that  Mrs.  Johnson  send  me  two  thousand  instead  of  one  ? 
It  would  not  hurt  her,  and  then  I  should  get  through 
nicely." 

"  You  see  that  thousand  is  almost  gone  and  as  board  is 
two  and  a  half  dollars  per  day,  I  can't  stay  long  and  shop 
in  Broadway  with  old  Mrs.  Richards  as  I  am  expected  to 
do  in  my  capacity  of  heiress.  There  never  was  so  lucky 
a  hit  as  that,  or  anything  that  took  so  well,  just  think — 1, 
Adeline  Worthington,  nee  Adeline  Murdoch,  who  used  to 
help  wash  her  own  clothes  in  Elmwood,  and  who  once 
talked  of  learning  a  vulgar  trade,  and  did  sew  a  week  for 
old  Aunt  Jerusha  Tubbs,  here  am  I,  metamorphosed  into 
a  Kentucky  heiress,  who  can  say  and  do  anything  she 
pleases  on  the  strength  of  being  an  heiress,  and  hailing 
from  a  State  where  folks  own  niggers.  I  tell  you,  Spring 
Banh^  Kentucky — has  done  wonders  for  me  in  the  way 
of  getting  me  noticed. 

"  You  see  I  am  a  pure  Southern  woman  here  ;  nobody 
but  Mrs.  Richards  knows  that  I  was  born,  mercy  knows 
where.  But  for  you,  she  never  need  have  known  it  eith- 
er, but  you  must  tell  that  we  had  not  always  lived  in  Ken- 
tucky.    Honestly,  I  was  glad  when  you  left. 

"But  to  do  Mrs.  Richards  justice,  she  never  alludes  V, 
my  birth,  and  you  ought  to  hear  her  introduce  me  to  sovie 
of  her  friends,  '  Mrs.  So  and  So,  Miss  Worthington  from 
Spring  Bank,  Kentucky,'  then  in  an  aside,  which  I  am  not 
supposed  to  hear,  she  adds,  *  A  great  heiress  of  a  very  re^- 
spectable  family.  You  may  have  heard  of  them.'  Some- 
how, this  alw^ays  makes  me  uncomfortable,  as  it  brings  up 
certain  cogitations  touching  that  scamp  you  were  silly 
enough  to  marry,  thereby  giving  me  to  the  world,  which 
my  delectable  brother  no  doubt  thinks  would  have  been 
better  off  without  me.     But  to  proceed — 

"  We  left   Saratoga   a  week   ago — old  lady  Richard* 


198  HUGH    WORTHTNGTON. 

wanted  to  go  to  Terrace  Hill  awhile  and  show  me  to  Anna 
who  it  seems  is  a  kind  of  fiunily  oracle.  If  she  approve 
JoJuun/s  choice,  it  is  all  right." 

"Who  is  Johnny  f''  Hugh  asked,  his  face  a  purplish 
hue  and  contrasting  strangely  with  the  ashen  one  resting 
on  his  shoulder. 

^Irs.  Worthington  explained  to  him  what  she  knew  of 
l>r.  Richards,  and  Hugh  went  on  : 

"After  counting  the  little  gold  eagles  in  my  purse,  I  said 
perhaps  I'd  go  for  a  few  days,  though  I  dreaded  it  terri- 
bly, for  the  doctor  had  not  yet  bound  himself  last,  and  I 
did  not  know  what  the  result  of  those  three  old  maid  sis- 
ters, sitting  on  me,  would  be.  '  Old  lady  was  quite  happy 
in  prospect  of  going  home,  when  one  day  a  letter  come 
from  Anna.  I  happened  to  have  a  headache,  and  was  ly 
ing  on  madam's  bed,  when  the  dinner  bell  rang.  Of  course 
I  insisted  that  madam  should  go  down  without  me,  and 
of  course  she  went.  It  was  tedious  lying  there  alone, 
and  to  pass  away  the  time  I  just  peeped  into  the  letter> 
feeling  am]»ly  rewarded  by  the  insight  I  obtained  into  the 
fimily  secrets.  * 

"  They  are  poorer  than  I  supposed,  but  that  does  not 
matter,  position  is  what  I  want.  Anna  has  an  income  of 
her  own,  and,  generous  soul  that  she  is,  gives  it  out  to  her 
mother.  You  see  there  had  been  some  talk  of  her  coming 
to  Saratoga,  and  in  referring  to  it,  said,  'Much  as  I  might 
enjoy  it,  I  cannot  afford  to  come,  I  can  pay  your  bills  for 
some  time  longer,  if  you  really  think  the  water  a  benefit, 
but  my  presence  would  just  double  the  expense.  Then, 
if  brother  does  marry,  I  wish  to  surprise  him  with  a  hand- 
some set  of  penrls  for  his  bride,  and  I  am  economizing  to 
do  so.'  (Note  by  'Lina) — Isn't  she  a  clever  old  soul  ? 
Don't  she  deserve  a  better  sister-in-law  than  I  shall  make 
her,  and  won't  I  find  the  way  to  her  purse  often  ?  " 

Hugh  groaned  aloud,  and  the  letter  dropped  from  hia 
band. 


WAKING  TO  CONSCIOUSNESS.  1U9 

"  Mother,"  he  gasped,  "  it  must  not  be.  'Lma  shall  not 
thruat  herself  upon  them.  This  Anna  shall  not  be  so  cru- 
elly deceived.  I  don't  care  a  picayune  for  the  doctor  or 
the  old  lady.  They  are  much  like  'Lina,  I  reckon,  but 
tlu«4  Anna  awakens  my  sympathy.     I  mean  to  warn  her." 

"  Hugh,"  and  in  the  mothers  voice  there  was  a  tono 
wl  ich  startled  him,  "  Hugh,  let  her  alone.  Let  Dr 
Richards  marry  her  if  he  will.     You  and  I  shall  be " 

The  trembling  voice  faltered,  for  it  could  not  say  "  hap- 
pier without  her,"  but  Hugh  understood  it,  and  smoothing 
the  Foft,  thin  hair  of  the  head  nestUng  close  to  him,  he  re. 
plied, 

"  Yes  we  should  be  happier  with  'Lina  gone,  but  there's 
a  right  and  there's  a  wrong,  which  is  it  best  to  choose  ?  '» 

"  I  don't  know.  Oh,  I  don't  know.  The  right,  I  suppose. 
We'll  decide  by  and  by.     Read  on." 

And  Hugh  did  read  on,  feeling  as  if  he,  too  were  guilty, 
th  IS  to  know  what  Anna  Richards  had  intended  only  for 
her  moth ersr  eye. 

" '  From  some  w^ords  you  have  dropped,  I  fancy  that 
Miss  Worthington  does  not  suit  you  in  all  respects,  and 
you  wish  me  to  see  her.  Dear  mother,  John  marries  for 
himself,  not  for  us,  and  though  I  could  wish  my  new  sis- 
ter to  be  every  way  congenial,  I  shall  try  to  like  her,  even 
if  there  are  certain  little  coarse  points  about  her.  These 
may  result  from  education  rather  than  bad  blood,  and  if 
SG,  they  can  easily  be  rubbed  off.  If  she  is  bright  and 
observing  she  will  soon  learn  that  slang  phrases  together 
with  loud  talking  and  laughing,  are  not  lady-like  or  marks 
of  cultivation.  But  we  must  be  very  cautious  not  to  let 
her  know  what  we  are  doing.  Extreme  kindness  and  af- 
fection must  mark  every  action,  and  in  the  end  we  shall 
succeed.  If  John  is  satisfied  and  happy,  that  is  all  I  ask, 
Asenath  and  Eudora  think  you  had  better  persuade  her 
to  come  home  with  you  for  a  few  days  before  going  to 
New  York  and  I  concur  in  their  wishes.     The  house  will 


200  HUGH    WORTUlJfQTON. 

seem  dull  to  her,  no  doubt,  after  Saratoga  gayeties  but 
we  will  make  it  as  pleasant  as  possible. 

"  *  When  will  you  come  ?  Asenath  has  sent  the  cur- 
tains in  the  north  chamber  to  the  laundress,  but  will  go 
no  farther  until  we  hear  for  certain  that  Miss  Worthing- 
ton  is  iyO  be  our  guest.     Write  immediately . 

"  *  Yours,  affectionately,        Aj^tsa* 
"  *  Remember  me  to  John  and  Miss  W  — ' 

**  There  then,  this  is  what  I  read,  lying  on  madam's 
bed,  and  it  decided  my  future  course.  Do  you  suppose 
I'm  going  to  Terrace  Hill  to  be  watched  by  that  trio  of 

old  maids  ?    No,  ma'am,  not  by  a ,  I  was  going  to 

say  *  jug  full,'  but  remembered  slang  phrases  just  in  time. 
Anna  would  be  delighted  with  that  improvement. 

"  I  am  resolved  now  to  win  Dr.  Richards  at  all  haz- 
ards. Only  let  me  keep  up  the  appearance  of  wealth, 
and  the  thing  is  easily  accomplished ;  but  I^an't  go  to 
Terrace  Hill  yet,  cannot  meet  this  Anna,  for,  I  dread  her 
decision  more  than  all  the  rest,  inasmuch  as  I  know  it 
would  have  more  weight  with  the  doctor. 

"But  to  come  back  to  madam.  I  was  fast  asleep 
when  she  returned.  Had  not  read  Anna's  letter,  nor  any- 
thing !  You  should  have  seen  her  face  when  I  told  her  I 
had  changed  my  mind,  that  I  could  not  go  to  Terrace  Hill, 
that  mamma  (that's  you !)  did  not  think  it  would  be  proper, 
inasmuch  as  I  had  no  claim  upon  them.  You  see,  I  made 
her  believe  I  had  written  to  you  on  the  subject,  receiving 
a  reply  that  you  disapproved  of  my  going,  and  brother 
Hugh,  too,  I  quote  him  a  heap,  making  madam  laugh  till 
she  cries  with  repeating  his  odd  speeches,  she  does  so 
want  to  see  that  eccentric  Hugh,  she  says." 

Another  groan  from  Mrs.  Worthington — something 
sounding  like  an  oath  from  Hugh,  and  he  went  on  : 

"  I  said,  brother  was  afi-aid  it  was  improper  under  the 


WAKING    TO   CONSCIOUSNESS.  201 

circurastances  for  me  to  go,  afraid  lest  people  sbould  talk  ; 
that  I  preferred  going  at  once  to  New  York.  So  it  was 
finally  decided,  to  the  doctor's  relief,  I  fancied,  that  we 
crme  here,  and  here  we  are  — hotel  just  like  a  beehive? 
and  my  room  is  in  the  fifth  story. 

It  is  very  expensive  staying  here  at  two  dollars  and  a 
half  per  day,  and  I  want  so  much  to  see  England's  future 
king.  Then,  too,  I  am  determined  to  bring  the  doctor  to 
terms,  and  so  rid  you  and  Hugh  of  myself,  but  to  do 
this,  I  must  have  more  money,  and  you  must  manage 
some  way  to  get  it.  Beg,  borrow,  pawn,  or  steal,  any 
thing  to  get  it  at  once. 

"Your  distracted 

"Lina." 

«P.  S.  One  day  later.  Rejoice,  oh,  rejoice!  and  give 
car.  The  doctor  has  actually  asked  the  question,  and  1 
blushingly  referred  him  to  mamma,  but  he  seemed  to 
think  this  unnecessary,  took  alarm  at  once,  and  pressed 
the  matter  until  I  said  yes.  Aren't  you  glad  ?  But  one 
thing  is  sure  —  Hugh  must  sell  a  nigger  to  get  me  a 
handsome  outfit.  There's  Mug,  always  under  foot,  doing 
no  one  any  good.  She'll  bring  six  hundred  any  day, 
she's  so  bright  and  healthy.  Nobody  will  think  of  abus- 
ing her  either,  she's  so  cunning,  and  thus  Hugh  can 
swallow  his  Abolition  principles  for  once,  and  bestir  him.- 
self  to  find  a  buyer  for  Muggins.  Lulu  he  must  give 
me  out  and  out  for  a  waiting  maid.     There's  no  other  al- 

ternative." 

So  absorbed  were  Hugh  and  his  mother,  as  not  to  hear 
the  low  howl  of  fear  echoing  through  the  hall,  as  Mug 
Bed  in  terror  from  the  dreaded  new  owner  to  whom  Mas- 
ter Hugh  was  to  sell  her.  Neither  did  they  hear  the  cat- 
Uke  tread  with  which  Lulu  glided  past  the  door,  taking 
the  same  direction  Mug  had  gone,  namely,  to  Alice  John- 

9* 


202  nUGFI    WORTniNGTON. 

Lulu  had  been  sitting  by  the  open  winaow  at  the  end 
of  the  liall,  and  liad  heard  every  word  of  this  letter,  while 
]\Iug,  sent  by  Chloe  on  some  errand  to  Mrs.  Worth ington, 
had  reached  the  threshold  in  time  to  hear  all  that  waa 
said  about  selling  her.  Instinctively  both  turned  for  pro- 
t^  ;tion  to  Alice,  but  ISlug  was  the  first  to  reach  her 
Throwing  herself  upon  her  knees  and  hiding  her  face  in 
Alice's  dress  she  sobbed  frantically, 

"  You  buys  me.  Miss  Alice.  You  give  Mas'r  Hugh  six 
hund)-ed  dollars  for  me,  so't  he  can  get  Miss  'Lina's  wed- 
din'  finery.  I'll  be  good,  I  will.  I'll  learn  de  Lord's  prar, 
ebery  word  on't ;  will  you.  Miss  Alice,  say  ?  " 

In  amazement  Alice  tried  to  wrest  her  muslin  dress  from 
the  child's  grasp,  asking  what  -she  meant. 

"I  know,  I'll  tell,"  and  Lulu  scarcely  less  excited,  but 
more  capable  of  restraining  herself,  advanced  into  the  room, 
and  ere  the  bewildered  Alice  could  well  understand  what 
it  all  meant,  or  make  more  tlian  a  feeble  attempt  to  stop 
her,  she  had  repeated  rapidly  the  entire  contents  of  'Lina's 
letter,  omitting  nothing  of  any  consequence,  but,  as  was 
quite  natural,  dwelling  lousiest  upon  the  engagement,  as 
that  was  the  point  which  particularly  concerned  herself 
and  Muggins. 

Too  much  amazed  at  first  to  speak,  Alice  sat  motionless, 
then  rallying  her  scattered  senses,  she  said  to  Lulu, 

"  I  am  sorry  that  you  told  me  this,  sorry  you  knew  it 
to  tell.  It  was  wrong  in  you  to  listen,  and  you  must  not 
repeat  it  to  any  one  else.     Will  you  promise  ?  " 

Lulu  would  do  anything  which  Alice  asked,  and  sh 
gave  the  required  promise,  then  with  terror  in  every  lino 
ament  of  her  face  she  said, 

"  But,  Miss  Alice,  must  I  be  Miss  'Lina's  waiting  maid  ? 
Will  Master  Hugh  permit  it  ?  " 

Alice  did  not  know  Hugh  as  well  as  we  do,  and  in  her 
heart  there  was  a  fear  lest  for  the  sake  of  peace  he  might 
be  overruled,  resolving  in  her  mind  that  Lulu  and  Mug- 


WAKING    TO    COXSCIOUS^ESS.  208 

giijs  should  change  owners  ere  the  capricious  'Lina's  re- 
turn, and  endeavoring  as  fiir  as  she  could  to  quiet  both. 
It  was  no  ea«y  task,  however,  to  soothe  Muggins, 
and  only  Alice's  direct  avowal  that  if  possible  she 
would  herself  become  her  purchaser,  checked  her  cries  at 
all,  but  the  moment  this  was  said  her  sobbing  ceased,  and 
Alice  was  able  to  question  Lulu  as  to  whether  it  was  re 
ally  Hugh  who  had  read  the  letter. 

I^ulu  assured  her  that  it  was,  and  feeling  that  he  must 
be  better,  Alice  dismissed  both  Lulu  and  Mug,  and  then 
eat  dowm  to  reflect  as  to  her  next  best  course  of  action. 

Adah  must  go  to  Terrace  Hill,  and  if  Alice's  suspicions 
were  correct  the  projected  marriage  would  be  prevented 
without  further  interference,  for  Lina  was  not  bad  enough 
deliberately  to  take  for  a  husband  one  who  had  so  cruelly 
wronged  another,  and  even  if  she  were,  Anna  had  power 
to  stop  it.  Adah  must  go,  and  Alice's  must  be  the  purse 
w^hich  defi-ayed  all  the  expense  of  fitting  her  up.  If  ever 
Alice  felt  thankful  to  God  for  having  made  her  rich  in 
this  world's  goods,  it  was  that  morning  when  so  many 
calls  for  money  seemed  crowding  on  her  at  once.  Only 
the  previous  night  she  had  heard  from  Col.  Tifflon  that 
the  day  was  fixed  for  the  sale  of  his  house,  that  he  had 
no  hope  of  redeeming  it,  and  that  Nell  had  nearly  cried 
herself  into  a  second  fever  at  the  thoughts  of  leaving 
Mosside.  "  Then  there's  Rocket^''  the  colonel  had  said, 
"  Hugh  cannot  buy  him  back,  and  he's  so  bound  up  in 
him  too,  poor  Hugh,"  and  with  quivering  lip  the  colonel 
had  wrung  Alice's  hand,  hurrying  off  ere  she  had  time  t"* 
suggest  what  all  along  had  been  in  her  mind. 

"  It  does  not  matter,"  she  thought.  "  A  surprise  will 
be  quite  as  pleasant,  and  then  Mr.  Liston  may  object  to 
it  as  a  silly  girl's  fancy." 

This  w^as  the  previous  night,  and  now  this  morning 
another  demand  ha<l  come  in  the  shape  of  Muggins  weep  - 


204  nUGII    WOKTIIINGTON. 

ing  in   her  lap,  and  Lulu  begging  to  be  saved  from  'Linn 
W  Drill  ington. 

Meantime  in  the  sick  room  there  was  a  consultation 
between  mother  and  son,  touching  the  money  for  winch 
'Lina  had  asked,  and  which  Hugh  declined  sending  to 
her.  She  had  shown  herself  too  heartless  for  any 
thing,  he  said,  and  wore  it  not  for  An7ia,  who  was  too 
good  to  be  so  terribly  du])ed,  he  should  be  glad  when 
that  Dr.  took  her  oif  his  hands ;  tlien  he  spoke  of  Alice 
asking  many  questions  concerning  her,  and  at  last  ex 
pressing  a  wish  to  see,  and  talk  with  her.  This  wish 
Mrs.  Worthington  at  once  communicated  to  Alice,  who 
rather  reluctantly  went  to  his  room,  feeling  that  it  was 
to  all  intents  and  purposes  her  first  meeting  with  Hugh. 

"  This  is  Miss  Johnson,"  Mrs.  Worthington  said,  as 
Alice  drew  near,  a  bright  flush  spreading  over  her  face 
as  she  met  Hugh's  look,  expressive  of  more  than  grati- 
tude. 

"  I  fancy  I  am  to  a  certain  degree  indebted  to  Miss 
Johnson  for  my  life,"  Hugh  said,  offering  her  his  hand, 
while  he  thanked  her  for  her  kindness  to  him  during  the 
long  weeks  of  his  illness. 

"  I  was  not .  wholly  unconscious  of  your  presence,"  he 
continued,  still  holding  her  liand.  "  There  were  moments 
when  I  had  a  vague  idea  of  somebody  different  from  those 
I  have  always  known  bending  over  me,  and  I  fancied,  too, 
that  this  somebody  was  sent  to  save  me  from  some  great 
evil.  I  am  glad  you  were  here.  Miss  Johnson  ;  I  shall  not 
forget  your  kindness." 

He  dropped  her  hand  then,  while  Alice  attempted  to 
Stammer  out  some  reply. 

"  Adah,  too,  had  been  kind,"  she  said,  "  quite  as  kind  as 
herself." 

"Yes,  Adah  is  a  dear,  good  girl,"  Hugh  replied.  «  She 
is  to  me  all  a  sister  could  be.    Do  you  like  Adah  ? " 

"  Yes,  very  much." 


WAKING   TO   CONSCIOUSNESS.  205 

"Tm  glad,  for  she  is  worthy  of  your  love.  She  has 
been  terribly  wronged,  sometime  she  may  tell  you." 

"  She  has  told  me,"  Alice  replied,  while  Hugh  continu- 
ed, "  I  am  sure  you  will  respect  her  just  the  same." 

Alice  had  not  intended  to  talk  with  him  of  Adah  then, 

but  he  had  introduced  the  subject  and  so  she  said  tc  him, 

"  1  had  though'  to  tell  you  of  a  plan  which   Mrs.  Ilast- 

iLgs  has  in  view,  out  perhaps,  I  had  better  wait  till  you 

are  stronger." 

« I  am  strong  enough  now  —  stronger  than  you  think. 
Tell  me  of  the  plan,"  and  Hugh  urged  the  request  until 
Alice  told  him  of  Terrace  Hill  and  Adah's  wish  to  go 
there. 

For  a  few  minutes  Hugh  lay  perfectly  still.  Once  he 
would  hav^e  spurned  the  idea,  for  Spring  Bank  would  be 
so  lonely  without  Adah  and  the  little  boy,  but  Alice  was 
there  now ;  Alice  was  worth  a  dozen  Adahs,  and  so  he 
said  at  last,  "  I  have  heard  of  the  Richards  family  before. 
You  know  the  Dr.  I  believe.  Do  you  like  him?  Is  he  a 
man  to  be  trusted  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  know  Dr.  Richards,"  Alice  replied,  half  resolv- 
ing to  tell  Hugh  all  she  feared,  but  feeling  that  possibly 
she  might  be  wrong  in  her  suspicions,  she  concluded  not 
to  do  so,  Adah's  presence  at  Terrace  Hill  would  settle  that 
matter,  and  she  asked  again  if  he  did  not  think  it  well  for 
her  to  go. 

"  Yes,  on  some  accounts,"  Hugh  answered,  thinking  of 
'Lina.  But  it  looks  too  much  like  sending  her  out  alone 
into  the  world.  Does  she  wish  to  go  ?  Is  she  anxiouij  ? 
Call  heu  please.  1  would  hear  from  her  what  she  has  to 
say." 

Adah  came  at  once,  advancing  so  many  reasons  t^  hy 
she  should  go  that  Hugh  consented  at  last,  and  it  was 
finally  settled  that  she  should  leave  as  soon  as  the  nece*. 
sary  additions  could  be  made  to  her  own  and  Willie's, 
wardrobe. 


206  HUGH   WOKTniNGTOW. 

This  being  arranged,  Alice  and  Adah  withdrew,  and 
Huffh  was  left  alone  to  think  over  the  incidents  of  his 
interview  with  Alice.  He  had  not  expected  her  to  recog- 
nize him  by  his  name,  because  she  had  not  learned  it  when 
on  board  the  steamer,  neither  did  he  really  expect  her  to 
recognize  his  features,  for  he  knew  he  had  changed  ma- 
terially since  that  time,  still  he  was  conscious  of  a  feeling 
of  disappointment  that  she  did  not  remember  him,  and 
once  he  thought  to  tell  her  who  he  was,  but  he  would 
rather  she  should  find  that  out  herself;  and  while  wonder- 
ing what  she  would  do  and  say  when  it  did  come  to  her 
knowledge  that  he  was  the  lad  who  tried  to  save  her  life, 
he  fell  away  to  sleep. 

Three  weeks  later  there  came  another  letter  from  'Lina, 
and  with  his  mother  sitting  beside  him,  Hugh  read  it 
aloud,  learning  "  that  Irving  Stanley's  widowed  sister,  Mrs. 
Carrie  Ellsworth,  was  in  New  York  and  had  come  to  the 
hotel  with  her  brother,  that  having  an  object  in  view  'Lina 
had  done  her  best  to  adtivate  Mrs.  Ellsworth,  presuming 
a  great  deal  on  their  relationship,  and  making  herself  so 
agreeable  to  her  child,  a  most  ugly  piece  of  deformity, 
that  cousin  Carrie^  who  had  hired  a  furnished  house  for 
the  winter,  had  invited  her  to  si)cnd  the  season  witli  her, 
and  she  was  now  snugly  ensconced  in  most  delightful 
quarters  on  Twenty-second  street,  between  Fifth  and  Sixth 
avenues.  Sometimes,"  she  wrote,  "I  half  suspect  Mrs 
Ellsworth  did  not  think  I  would  jump  at  her  invitation  so 
quick,  but  I  don't  care.  The  doctor,  for  some  reason  or 
other,  has  deferred  our  marriage  until  spring,  and  dear 
knows  I  am  not  coming  to  Spring  Bank  any  sooner  than 
I  can  help.  The  doctor,  of  course,  would  insist  upon  ac- 
companying me,  and  that  would  explode  my  bubble  at 
once.  When  I  am  ready  to  return,  Hugh  must  do  the 
brotherly,  and  come  for  me,  so  that  the  first  inkling  the 
doctor  gets  of  Spring  Bank  wull  be  when  he  comes  to 
have  tied  the  nuptial  knot.     I'm  half  sorry  to  think  how 


WAKING    TO    CONSCIOUSNESS.  207 

disappointed  he  will  be,  for  I  begin  to  like  liira,  and  mean 
to  make  up  in  goodness  what  I  lack  in  gold. 

"  By  the  way,  Adah  must  not  go  to  Terrace  Hill  aa 
you  wrote  she  thought  of  doing.  You  are  crazy  to  think  of 
it,  of  course  they  would  quiz  her  to  death  about  me  and 
Spring  Bank.  So  tie  her  up,  or  throttle  her,  or  do  some 
thing  if  she  persists  in  going. 

"I  shall  buy  my  bridal  trousseau  under  Mrs.  Ellsworth's 
supervision.  She  has  exquisite  taste,  and  Plugh  must 
send  the  money.  As  I  told  him  before,  he  can  sell  Mug. 
Harney  will  buy  her.     He  likes  pretty  darkies." 

"  Oh,  horror !  can  Ad  be  a  woman,  with  womanly  feel- 
ings !  "  Hugh  exclaimed,  as  he  deliberately  tore  the  let- 
ter in  fragments,  and  scattered  them  over  the  floor,  feel- 
ing for  a  moment  as  if  he  hated  his  sister. 

But  he  struggled  hard  to  cast  the  bitterness  away,  and 
after  a  moment  was  able  to  listen  and  answer  calmly, 
while  his  mother  asked  if  it  would  not  be  better  to  per- 
suade Adah  not  to  go  to  Terrace  Hill. 

"  It  may  interfere  with  'Lina's  plans,"  she  said,  "  and 
now  it's  gone  so  far,  it  seems  a  jnty  to  have  it  broken  up. 
I  know  it  is  not  right  to  deceive  him  so,  but  —  but  —  I 
don't  know  what.  It's  —  it's  very  pleasant  with  'Lina 
gone,"  and  with  a  choking  sob,  Mrs.  Worthington  laid 
her  face  upon  the  pillow,  ashamed  and  sorry  that  the 
real  sentiments  of  her  heart  were  thus  laid  bare. 

It  was  terrible  for  a  mother  to  feel  that  her  home 
would  -be  happier  for  the  absence  of  an  only  daughter, 
but  she  did  feel  so,  and  it  made  her  half  willing  that  Dr. 
Richards  should  be  deceived.  But  Hugh  shrank  from 
the  dishonorable  proceeding.  He  would  not  interfere 
himself,  but  if  Adah  could  be  the  agent  through  whose 
instrumentality  the  fraud  was  prevented,  he  would  be 
glad,  and  he  answered  decidedly  that  "  She  must  go  " 

Mrs.  Worthington  always  yielded  to  Hugh,  and  she 
did  so  now,  mentally  resolving,  however,  to  say  a  few 


208  HUGH    WOETniNGTON. 

words  to  Adah,  relative  to  her  not  divulging  anything 
which  could  possibly  harm  'Lina,  such  as  telling  how 
poor  they  were,  or  anytliing  like  that.  This  done,  Mrs. 
Woithington  felt  easier,  and  as  Hugh  looked  tired  and 
worried,  she  left  him  for  a  time,  having  first  called  Mug- 
gins to  gather  u])  the  fragments  of  'Lina's  letter  which 
Hugh  had  thrown  upon  the  carpet. 

"  Yes,  burn  every  trace  of  it,"  Hugh  said,  watching  the 
child  as  she  picked  up  piece  by  piece,  and  threw  them 
into  the  grate. 

"  I  means  to  save  dat  ar.  I'll  play  I  has  a  letter  for 
Miss  Alice,"  Mug  thought,  as  she  came  upon  a  bit  larger 
than  the  others,  and  when  she  left  the  room  there  was 
hidden  in  her  bosom  that  part  of  'Lina's  letter  relat'»ig 
to  herself  and  Harney. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE  SALE. 

Col.  Tifflon  could  not  pay  the  $10,000  note  which  he 
had  foolishly  endorsed,  and  as  Harney  knew  no  mercy 
where  his  interest  was  concerned.  Mosside  must  be  sold^ 
and  the  day  of  the  sale  had  come.  There  was  a  crowd 
of  people  out  and  they  waited  anxiously  for  the  shrill 
voice  and  hammer  of  the  auctioneer,  a  portly  little  man, 
who  felt  more  for  the  family  than  his  appearance  would 
indicate. 

There  had  been  a  long  talk  that  morning  between  him- 
Belf  and  a  young  lady,  whose  beauty  had  thrilled  his  heart, 
just  as  it  did  every  heart  beating  beneath  a  male's  attire. 
The  lady  had  seemed  a  little  nervous,  as  she  talked,  cast- 
ing anxious  glances  up  the  Lexington  turnpike,  and  asking 
several  times  when  the  Lexington  cars  were  due. 


THE    SALE. 


209 


« It  shan't  make  no  difference.  I'll  take  your  word,''  the 
Buctioneer  had  said  in  reply  to  some  doubts  expressed  by 
her.  "  I'd  trust  your  face  for  a  million,"  and  with  a  profound 
bow  by  way  of  emphasising  his  compliment,  the  well 
meaning  Skinner  went  out  to  the  group  assembled  in  the 
yard,  while  the  lady  returned  to  the  upper  chamber  where 
^[^SL.  Tiffton  and  Ellen  were  weeping  bitterly  and  refusing 
to  be  comforted. 

From  Ellen's  chamber  a  small  glass  door  opened  out 
upon  an  open  balcony,  where  the  Colonel  sat  leaning  on 
his  cane,  and  watching  the  movements  in  the  yard  below. 
To  this  balcony,  and  the  glass  door  communicating  with 
it,  many  eyes  were  directed,  for  it  was  known  the  family 
were  in  that  vicinity,  and  it  was  also  whispered  that  Miss 
Johnson,  the  beautiful  young  lady  from  Spring  Bank  was 
there,  and  great  was  the  anxiety  of  some  for  a  sight  of 
her.  But  neither  Ellen  nor  Alice  were  visible  for  the  first 
hour,  and  only  the  white-haired  colonel  kept  watch  while 
one  after  another  of  his  household  goods  were  sold. 

The  crowd  grew  weary  at  last  —  they  must  have  brisk- 
er sport,  if  they  would  keep  warm  in  that  chilly  Novem- 
ber wind,  and  cries  for  the  "  horses  "  were  heard. 

"  Your  crack  ones,  too.  I'm  tired  of  this,"  growled 
Harney,  and  Ellen's  riding  pony  was  led  out,  the  one  she 
lOved  and  petted  almost  as  much  as  Hugh  had  petted 
Rocket.  The  Colonel  saw  the  playful  animal,  and  with 
a  moan  tottered  to  Ellen's  chamber,  saying, 

"  They  are  going  to  sell  Beauty,  Nell.  Poor  Nellie, 
don't  cry,"  and  the  old  man  laid  his  hand  on  his  weeping 
daughter's  head. 

"  Colonel  Tifflon,  this  way  please,"  and  Alice  spoke  in 
a  whisper.  "  I  want  Beauty,  and  I  expected  —  I  thought 
— "  here  she  glanced  again  up  the  turnpike,  but  seeing 
no  one  continued,  "  Couldn't  you  bid  for  me,  bid  all  you 
would  be  willing  to  give  if  you  were  bidding  for  Ellen  ?  " 

The  colonel  looked  at  her  in  a  kind  of  dazed,  bewil 


210  HUGn   WOETHTNGTOir. 

dered  way,  as  if  not  fully  comprehending  her,  ti'l  she  re- 
peated her  request ;  then  mechanically  he  went  back  to 
liis  post  on  the  balcony,  and  just  as  Harney's  last  bed  was 
about  to  receive  the  final  go7ie^  he  raised  it  twenty  dollars 
and  ere  Harney  had  time  to  recover  his  astonishment* 
Beauty  was  disposed  of,  and  the  Colonel's  servant  Kara 
led  her  in  triumph  back  to  the  stable. 

With  a  fierce  scowl  of  defiance  Harney  called  for  Rock- 
et. He  had  not  forgotten  that  knock-down  months  before, 
when  Hugh  resented  the  insult  offered  to  Adah  Hastings. 
He  had  hated  him  ever  since  —  had  swoni  to  have  revenge, 
and  as  one  mode  of  taking  it,  he  would  secure  Rocket  at 
all  hazards.  Even  that  morning  as  he  rode  past  Spring 
Bank,  he  had  thought  with  a  fiendish  exultation,  how  he 
would  seek  the  opportunity  to  provoke  to  restlessness  and 
then  cowhide  Rocket  in  Hugh's  presence  as  a  means  of 
repaying  the  knock-down !  And  this  was  the  savage, 
who,  with  eager,  expectant  look  ui)un  his  visage,  stood 
waiting  for  Rocket. 

Suspecting  something  wrong  the  animal  refused  to  come 
out,  and  planting  his  fore  feet  firmly  upon  the  floor  of  his 
stable,  kept  them  all  at  bay.  Witl  a  fierce  oath,  the  bru- 
tal Harney  gave  him  a  stinging  blow,  which  made  the  ten- 
der flesh  quiver  with  pain,  but  the  fiery  gleam  iu  the  ani- 
mal's eye  warned  him  not  to  repeat  it.  Suddenly  among 
the  excited  group  of  dusky  faces  he  spied  that  of  Claib^ 
and  bade  him  lead  out  the  horse. 

"I  can't.     Oh,  mars'r,  for  the  dear "  Claib  began, 

but  Harney's  riding  whip  silenced  him  and  he  went  sub- 
missively in  to  Rocket,  who  became  as  gentle  beneath  hia 
touch  as  a  lamb. 

Loud  were  the  cries  of  admiration  which  hailed  his  ap 
poarance ;  and  Alice  would  have  known  that  something 
hnportant  was  pending  without  the  colonel's  groan, 

"  Oh,  Rocket !  Poor  Hugh !  It  hurts  me  for  tke  boy 
more  than  anything  else !  " 


THE    SALE.  211 

With  one  last  despairing  glance  up  the  still  lonely  'pike 
Alice  hurried  to  the  door,  and  looked  out  upon  the  eager 
throng.  Gathered  in  a  knot  around  Rocket  were  all  the 
uoted  horse-dealers  of  the  country,  and  conspicuous  among 
them  was  Harney,  his  face  wearing  a  most  disagreeable 
expression,  as  in  reply  to  some  remark  of  one  of  his  com-  ._ 
panions  he  said,  by  way  of  depreciating  Rocket,  and  thua  j 
preventing  bids, 

"  Yes,  quite  a  fancy  piece,  but  ain't  worth  a  row  of  pins. 
Been  fed  with  sugar  plums  too  much.  Why,  it  will  take 
all  the  gads  in  Kentucky  to  break  him  in." 

The  bids  were  very  rapid,  for  Rocket  was  popular,  but 
Harney  bided  his  time,  standing  silently  by,  with  a  look 
on  his  face  of  cool  contempt  for  those  who  presumed  to 
think  they  could  be  the  fortunate  ones.  He  was  prepared 
to  give  more  than  any  one  else.  Nobody  would  go  above 
his  figure,  he  had  set  it  so  high  —  higher  even  than  Rock- 
et was  really  worth.  Five  hundred  and  fifty,  if  necessa- 
ry* No  one  would  rise  above  that,  Harney  was  sure,  and. 
he  quietly  waited  until  the  bids  were  far  between,  and  tlie 
auctioneer  still  dwelling  upon  the  last,  seomed  waiting  ex- 
pectantly for  something. 

"I  believe  my  soul  the  fellow  knows  I  mean  to  have 
that  horse,"  thought  Harney,  and  with  an  air  which  said, 
that  settles  it,"  he  called  out  in  loud,  clear  tones,  "  Four 
Hundred,"  thus  adding  fifty  at  one  bid. 

There  was  a  slight  movement  then  in  the  upper  balco- 
ny, an  opening  of  the  glass  door,  and  a  suppressed  whis- 
per ran  through  the  crowd,  as  Alice  came  out  and  stood 
by  the  colonel's  side. 

The  bidding  went  on  briskly  now,  each  bidder  raising 
a  few  dollars,  till  $450  were  reached,  and  then  there 
came  a  pause,  broken  at  last  by  a  silvery  half-tremulous 
voice,  which  passed  like  an  electric  shock  through 'the 
eager  crowd,  and  roused  Harney  to  a  perfect  fury. 

"Five  Hundred." 


212  HUGH   WOETHINGTON. 

There  was  no  mistaking  the  words,  and  with  a  mut- 
tered curse  Harney  yelled  out  his  price,  all  he  had  meant 
to  give.  Again  that  girlish  voice  was  lieard,  this  time 
clear  and  decisive  as  it  added  ten  to  Harney's  five  hundred 
and  fifty.  Harney  knew  now  who  it  was  that  bid  against 
him,  for,  following  the  eyes  of  those  around  him,  he  saw 
her  where  she  stood,  her  long  curls  blowing  about  her 
fkir,  flushed  face,  one  little  hand  resting  on  the  colonel's 
shoulder,  the  other  holding  together  Ellen  Tifflon's  crim- 
son scarf,  which  she  had  thrown  over  her  black  dress  to 
shield  her  from  the  cold.  There  was  nothing  immodest 
or  unmaidenly  in  her  position,  and  no  one  felt  that  there 
was.  Profound  respect  and  admiration  were  the  only 
feelings  she  elicited  from  the  spectators,  unless  we  except 
the  villain  Harney,  and  even  he  stood  gazing  at  her  for  a 
moment,  struck  with  her  marvellous  beauty,  and  the  look 
of  quiet  resolution  uj)on  her  childish  face.  Had  Alice 
been  told  six  months  before  that  she  would  one  day 
mingle  conspicuously  in  a  Kentucky  horse-sale  as  the 
competitor  of  such  a  man  as  Harney,  she  would  have 
scoffed  at  the  idea,  and  even  now  she  had  no  distinct 
consciousness  of  what  she  was  doing. 

Up  to  the  latest  possible  moment  she  had  watched  the 
distant  highway,  and  when  there  was  no  longer  hope, 
had  stolen  to  the  colonel's  side,  and  whispered  in  his  ear 
what  he  must  say. 

"  It  will  not  do  for  me,"  he  replied.  "  Say  it  yourself. 
There's  no  impropriety,"  and,  almost  ere  she  was  aware 
of  it,  Alice's  voice  joined  itself  with  the  din  which  ceased 
as  her  distinct  "  Five  Hundred"  came  rins^ini]:  throujjb 
the  air. 

Harney  was  mad  with  rage,  for  he  knew  well  for  whom 

hat  fair  Northern  girl  was  interested.     Jle   had  heard 

that   she    was   rich  —  how   rich     he    divT     not    know  — ■ 

but  fancied  she  might  possibly  be  worth  a  few  paltry 

thousands,  and  so,  of  course  she   was  not   prepared   to 


THE    SALE.  213 

compete  with  him,  who  counted  his  gold  by  hundreds  of 
thousands.  Five  hundred  was  all  she  would  give  for 
Rocket.  How,  then,  was  he  sui-jmsed  and  chagrined 
when,  with  a  coolness  equal  to  his  own,  she  kept  steadily 
on,  scarcely  allowing  the  auctioneer  to  repeat  his  bid  be 
fore  she  increased  it  and  once,  womanlike,  raising  on  hoi 
own. 

"  Fie,  HaiTiey !  Shame  to  go  against  a  girl !  Better 
give  it  up,  for  don't  you  see  she's  resolved  to  have  him? 
She's  worth  half  Massachusetts,  too,  they  say." 

These  and  like  expressions  met  Harney  on  every  side 
until  at  last,  as  he  paused  to  answer  some  of  them,  grow- 
ing heated  in  the  altercation,  and  for  the  instant  forget 
ting  Rocket,  the  auctioneer  brought  the  hammer  down 
with  a  click  which  made  Harney  leap  fi-om  the  ground, 
for  by  that  sound  he  knew  that  Rocket  was  sold  to  Alice 
Johnson  for  six  hundred  dollars !  There  was  a  horrid  oath 
a  fierce  scowl  at  Alice  passing  from  his  view,  and  then, 
with  the  muttered  sneer,  "  I  wonder  if  she  intends  to  buy 
the  farm  and  niggers  ?  "  Harney  tried  to  hide  liis  discom- 
fiture by  saying,  "  he  was  glad  on  the  whole,  for  he  did 
not  really  want  the  horse,  and  had  only  bidden  from 
Bpite  ! " 

Meantime  Alice  had  sought  the  friendly  shelter  of  El 
len's  room,  where  the  tension  of  nerve  endured  so  long 
gave  way,  and  sinking  upon  the  sofa  she  fainted  just  aa 
down  the  Lexington  turnpike  came  the  man  looked  for  so 
long  in  the  earlier  part  of  the  day.  Alice  had  written  to 
Mr.  Listen  a  few  weeks  previous  to  the  sale,  and  indulg 
ent  almost  to. a  fault  to  his  beautiful  ward,  he  had  replied 
tl  at  he  would  surely  be  at  Mosside  in  time. 

He  had  kept  his  word,  and  it  was  his  familiar  voice 
which  brought  Alice  back  to  consciousness ;  and  pressing 
his  hand,  she  told  him  what  she  had  done,  and  asked  if  it 
were  unmaidenly.  She  could  not  err,  in  Mr.  Liston's  esti- 
mation, and  with  his  assurance  that  all  was  right,  Alice 


214  HUGH    TVORTHINGTON. 

grew  calm,  and  in  a  hurried  consultation  explaincvl  to  him 
more  definitely  than  her  letter  had  done,  what  her  wishes 
were  —  Colonel  Tiffton  must  not  be  homeless  in   his   old 

age.     There  were  10,000  dollars  lying  in  the Bank  in 

Massachusetts,  and  she  would  have  Mosside  jMirchased  ia 
her  name  for  Colonel  Tifflon,  not  as  a  gift,  for  he  wr.u.d 
not  accept  it,  but  as  a  loan,  to  be  paid  at  his  convenience. 
This  was  Alice's  plan,  and  Mr.  Listen  acted  upon  it  at 
once.  Taking  his  place  in  the  motley  assemblage,  he  bid 
quietly,  steadily,  until  the  whisper  ran  round,  "  Who  is 
that  man  in  that  butternut-colored  coat  ?  " 

None  knew  who  he  was  though  all  came  to  the  conclu- 
sion that  Harney's  hope  of  securing  Mosside  was  as  futile 
as  had  been  his  hope  of  getting  Rocket.  There  were 
others  disappointed,  too  —  the  fair  matrons  who  coveted 
Mrs.  Tiffton's  carpets,  min-ors,  and  cut-glass,  all  of  which 
passed  to  the  stranger.  When  it  came  to  the  negroes  he 
winced  a  little,  wondering  what  his  abolition  friends  would 
say  to  see  him  bidding  off  his  own  flesh  and  blood,  but 
the  end  answered  the  means,  he  thought,  and  so  he  kept 
on  until  at  last  Mosside,  with  its  appurtenances,  belonged 
ostensibly  to  him,  and  the  half  glad,  half  disappointed 
people  wondered  greatly  who  3Ir  Jacob  Liston  could  be, 
or  from  what  quarter  of  the  globe  he  had  suddenly  drop 
ped  into  their  midst. 

Col.  Tiffton  knew  that  nearly  every  thing  had  been  pur- 
chased by  him,  and  felt  glad  that  a  stranger  rather  than 
a  neighbor  was  to  occupy  what  had  been  so  dear  to  him, 
and  that  his  servants  would  not  be  separated.  With  El 
len  it  was  different.  A  neighbor  might  allow  them  to  re- 
main there  a  time,  she  said,  while  a  stranger  would  net, 
and  she  was  weeping  bitterly,  when,  as  the  sound  hi 
voices  and  the  tread  of  feet  gradually  died  away  from  the 
yard  below,  Alice  came  to  her  side,  and  bending  over  her 
said  softly,  "  Could  you  bear  some  good  news  now ;  — 
bear  to  know  who  is  to  inhabit  Mosside  ?  " 


THE    RIDE.  215 

•'Good  news?  "  and  Ellen  looked  up  wonderingly. 

"  Yes,  good  news,  I  think  you  will  call  it,"  and  then  as 
delicately  as  possible  Alice  told  what  had  been  done,  and 
that  the  colonel  was  still  to  occupy  his  old  home.  "  Aa 
my  tenant,  if  you  like,"  she  said  to  him,  when  he  began 
to  demur.  "  You  will  not  find  me  a  hard  landlady,"  and 
wi'h  playful  raillery  she  succeeded  in  bringing  a  smile  to 
biS  face,  where  tears  also  were  visible. 

When  at  last  it  was  clear  to  the  old  man,  he  laid  his 
hand  upon  the  head  of  the  young  girl  and  whispered 
huskily,  "I  cannot  thank  you  as  I  would,  or  tell  you 
what's  in  my  heart.  God  bless  you,  Alice  Johnson.  I 
wish  I  too,  had  found  him  early  as  you  have,  for  I  know 
it's  He  that  put  this  into  your  mind.  God  bless  you,  God 
bless  my  child." 


CHAPTER  XXiy. 

THE    RIDE. 

That  night  after  her  return  from  Mosside,  Alice  had 
playfully  remarked  to  Hugh,  "  The  Doctor  says  you  stay 
too  closely  in  the  house.  You  need  more  exercise,  and 
to-morrow  I  am  going  to  coax  you  to  ride  with  me,  I  am 
getting  quite  proud  of  my  horsemanship,  and  want  your 
opinion,  I  shall  not  take  an  excuse.  You  are  mine  for  a 
part  of  to-morrow,"  she  added,  as  she  saw  him  about  to 
speak,  and  casting  upon  him  her  most  bewildering  smile, 
he  hastily  quitted  the  room,  but  not  until  she  heard  hift 
mothered  sigh  and  guessed  that  he  was  thinking  of  Rock- 
et. He  had  not  asked  a  question  concerning  Mosside,  and 
only  knew  that  a  stranger  had  bought  it  with  all  its  ap- 
purtenances. Rocket  he  had'  not  mentioned,  though  his 
pet  was  really  uppermost  in  his  mind,  and  when  he  woke 


216  HUGH    WORTniNGTON. 

next  morning  from  his  feverish  sleep  and  remerabcrea 
Alice's  proposal  to  ride,  he  said  to  himself,  "  I  cansot  go, 
much  as  I  might  enjoy  it.  No  other  hoi-se  would  carry 
me  as  gently  as  Rocket.     Oh,  Rocket ! " 

This  was  always  the  despairing  ciy  with  which  Hugh 
ended  his  cogitation  of  Rocket,  and  he  said  it  now  bitter- 
ly, without  the  shadow  of  a  hope. 

It  was  a  briglit,  balmy  morning,  unlike  the  chilly  one 
of  the  previous  day,  and  Hugh,  as  he  walked  slowly  to 
the  window  and  inhaled  the  fragrant  air,  felt  that  it  would 
do  him  good.  "But  I  shan't  go,"  he  said,  and  when,  af- 
ter breakfast  was  over,  Alice  came,  reminding  him  of  the 
ride,  telling  him  she  was  going  then  to  get  herself  in 
readiness,  and  should  expect  to  find  him  waiting  when 
she  came  back,  he  began  an  excuse,  but  his  resolution 
quickly  gave  way  before  her  sprightly  arguments,  and  he 
finally  assented,  saying,  however,  by  way  of  apology,  "  You 
must  not  expect  a  gay  cavalier,  for  I  am  still  too  weak,  and 
I  have  no  horse  fit  to  ride. 

"Yes,  I  know,"  and  Alice  ran  gaily  to  her  room  and 
donned  her  riding  dress,  while  not  less  eager  than  herself 
Mrs.  Worthington,  Aunt  Eunice,  and  Adah  stood  by,  won- 
dering what  Hugh  would  say  and  how  Rocket  would  act. 

He  was  out  in  the  back  yard  now,  pawing  and  curvet- 
ting, and  rubbing  his  nose  against  all  who  came  near  him, 
while  Claib,  never  so  happy  in  his  life,  was  holding  him 
by  his  bridle  and  talking  to  him  of  Mars'r  Hugh,  which 
name  the  animal  was  supposed  to  recognize. 

*•  There,  I'm  ready,"  Alice  said,  running  down  to  Hugh, 
wUj  was  so  pale,   that  but  for  the  surprise  in  store  for 
hiim,  Alice's  kind  heart  would  at  once  have  prompted  he 
lo  give  up  the  project. 

With  a  sigh  Hugh  rose  and  followed  her  to  the  door 
where  Dido,  held  by  Lulu,  stood  waiting  for  them. 

"  Where's  Jim  ?  "  Hugh  asked,  glancing  round  in 
quest  of  the  huge  animal  he  expected  to  mount, 


THE    RIDE. 


217 


«  Claib  has  your  horse.  He's  coining,"  and  with  great 
apparent  unconcern  Alice  worked  industriously  at  one 
of  her  gauntlets,  which  obstinately  refused  to  be  buttoned, 
while  the  entire  household  including  Mr.  Liston,  who  had 
conie  to  Spring  Bank  with  Alice,  congregated  apou  tha 
piazza,  waiting  anxiously  for  Rocket. 

Suddenly  Adah  flew  to  Hugh's  side,  and  said,  eagerly, 

"  Hugh,  please  whistle  as  you  used  to  do  for  Rocket  — 
just  once,  and  let  Miss  Johnson  hear  you." 

Hugh  felt  as  if  she  were  mocking  him,  and  answered 
no,  but  when  Alice  added  lier  entreaties  to  Adah's,  and 
even  laid  her  hand  coaxingly  on  his  arm,  he  yielded, 
while  like  a  gleam  of  lightning  the  shadow  of  a  suspicion 
flitted  across  his  mind.  It  was  a  loud,  shrill  whistle,  pen- 
etrating even  to  the  woods,  and  as  it  had  never  yet  failed 
of  its  object,  so  it  did  not  now,  for  the  instant  the  old  fa- 
miliar sound  fell  on  Rocket's  ear  he  started  as  if  a  shell 
had  exploded  beneath  his  feet,  and  breaking  away  from 
Claib  went  tearing  round  the  house,  answering  that  call 
with  the  neigh  he  had  been  wont  to  give  when  sum- 
moned by  his  master.  Utterly  speechless  Hugh  stood 
gazing  at  him  as  he  came  up,  his  neck  arched  proudly, 
and  his  silken  mane  flowing  as  gracefully  as  on  the  day 
when  he  v/as  led  away  to  Col.  Titi:lon's  stall. 

"  Mother,  what  does  it  mean  —  oh,  mother !  "  and  lean- 
ing himself  against  the  pillar  of  the  piazza  for  support, 
Hugh  turned  to  his  mother  for  an  explanation,  but  sho 
did  not  heed  him,  so  intent  was  she  in  watching  Rocket, 
who  had  reached  his  master,  and  seemed  to  be  regard- 
ing him  in  some  perplexity,  as  if  puzzled  at  his  changed 
appearance. 

Tossibly  pity  is  an  emotion  unknown  to  the  brute  crea- 
tion, but  surely  if  pity  can  be  felt  by  them,  it  was  ex- 
pressed by  Rocket,  as  he  stood  eyeing  his  pale,  wasted 
young  master;  then,  with  a  low  cry  of  joy,  he  lifted  his 
head  to  Hugh's  lace,  and  rubbed  against  it,  trying  in  va- 
rious ways  to  evince  his  delight  at  seeing  him  again. 


218  HUGH   WORTHINGTOW. 

•*  Won't  anybody  tell  me  what  it  means  ?  "  Hugh  gasp- 
ed, stretching  out  his  hands  towards  Rocket,  who  even 
attempted  to  lick  them. 

At  this  point  Alice  stepped  forward,  and  takino^  liock* 
et's  bridle,  laid  it  across  Hugh's  lap,  saying,  softly  — 

"  It  means  that  Rocket  is  yours,  purchased  by  a  friend, 
gaved  from  Harney,  for  you.  Mount  him,  and  see  if  ha 
rides  as  easily  as  ever.     I  am  impatient  to  be  off." 

But  had  Hugh's  life  depended  upon  it,  he  could  not 
have  mounted  Rocket  then.  He  knew  the  friend  was  Al- 
ice, and  the  magnitude  of  the  act  overpowered  him. 

"  Oh,  Miss  Johnson,"  he  cried,  "  what  made  you  do  it  ? 
It  must  not  be.     I  cannot  suffer  it." 

"  Not  to  please  me  ?  "  and  Alice's  face  wore  its  most 
winning  look.  "  It's  been  my  fixed  determination  ever 
since  I  heard  of  Rocket,  and  knew  how  much  you  loved 
him.  I  was  never  so  happy  doing  an  act  in  my  life,  and 
you  must  not  spoil  it  all  by  refusing.  Mr.  Liston  knew 
and  approved  of  my  doing  it,"  and  she  turned  to  her 
guardian,  who  advanced  towards  Plugh,  and  in  a  few  low- 
spoken  words  told  him  how  Alice's  heart  had  been  set 
upon  redeeming  Rocket,  and  how  hurt  she  would  be  if 
Hugh  did  not  accept  him. 

"As  a  loan  then,  not  as  a  gift,"  Hugh  whispered.  "It 
shall  not  be  a  gift." 

"  It  need  not,"  Alice  rejoined,  "  You  shall  pay  for  Rock- 
et if  you  like,  and  I'll  tell  you  how  on  our  ride.  Shall 
we  go  ?  " 

There  was  no  longer  an  excuse  for  lingering,  and  with 
(Taib'shelp  Hugh  was  once  more  seated  in  his  saddle^ 
while  Rocket's  whole  fi-ame  quivered  with  apparent  joy 
at  beanng  his  young  master  again.  They  made  a  splendid 
looking  couple  on  horseback,  and  the  family  watched 
them  admiringly  until  Hugh,  feeling  stronger  with  every 
breath  he  drew,  struck  into  a  gentle  canter,  and  the  hill 
hid  them  from  view. 


THE    HIDE.  219 

Once  out  upon  the  highway  where  there  were  no  rand 
holes  to  shun,  no  gates  to  open  and  shut,  Hugh  broached 
the  subject  of  Rocket  again,  when  Alice  told  him  unhesi- 
tatingly how  he  could,  if  he  would,  pay  for  him  and  leave 
hei  greatly  his  debtor.  The  scrap  of  paper,  which  Mug 
gins  had  saved  from  the  letter  thrown  by  Hugh  upon  the 
carpet,  had  been  placed  by  the  queer  little  child  in  an  old 
envelope,  which  she  called  her  letter  to  Miss  Alice. 
Handing  it  to  her  with  the  utmost  graAdty  she  had  asked 
her  to  read  "Mug's  letter,"  and  Alice  had  read  the  brief 
lines  written  by  'Lina,  "  Hugh  must  send  the  money,  as  I 
told  him  before.  He  can  sell  Mug,  Harney  likes  pretty 
darkies."  There  was  a  cold,  sick  feeling  at  Alice's  heart, 
a  shrinking  with  horror  from  'Lina  "Worthington,  and  then 
she  came  to  a  decision.  Mug  should  be  hers,  and  so,  as 
skillfully  as  she  could  she  brought  it  round,  that  having 
taken  a  great  fancy  both  to  Lulu  and  Muggins,  she  wished 
to  buy  them  both,  giving  whatever  Hugh  honestly  thought 
they  were  worth.  Rocket,  if  he  pleased,  should  be  taken 
as  part  or  whole  payment  for  Mug,  and  so  ce^^e  to  be  a 
gift. 

Hugh  was  confounded.  Could  Alice  know  what  'Lina 
had  written  ?  It  did  not  seem  possible,  and  yet  she  had 
laid  her  hand  upon  the  very  dilemma  which  was  troubling 
him  so  much.  If  Ad  should  marry  that  doctor,  she  would 
want  money  as  she  had  said,  and  money  Hugh  could  not 
get  unless  he  sold  his  negroes.  He  had  said  he  never 
would  part  with  them ;  but  selling  them  to  Alice  was  vir- 
tually setting  them  at  liberty,  and  Hugh  felt  his  own 
heart  throb  as  he  thought  of  Mug's  delight  when  told 
that  she  was  fi*ee.  A  slave  master  can  love  his  bond  ser- 
vant, and  Hugh  loved  the  little  Mug  so  much  that  the 
dea  of  parting  with  her  as  he  surely  must  at  some  future 
time  if  he  assented  to  Alice's  plan,  made  him  hesitate, and 
Alice's  best  arguments  were  called  into  requisition  ere  he 
came  to  a  decision      But  he  decided  at  last,  influenced 


220  HTTGH   WORTHINGTOIV. 

not  SO  much  by  need  of  money  as  by  knowing  how  much 

real  good  the  exchange  of  ownership  would  do  to  the  two 
young  girls.  In  return  for  Rocket  Alice  should  have 
Muggins,  while  for  Lulu  she  might  give  what  she  liked. 
Seven  hundred,  he  had  been  offered,  but  he  would  take 
less. 

"  Heaven  knows,"  he  added,  as  he  saw  by  the  expres* 
iion  oi  Alice's  face  how  distasteful  to  her  was  the  whole 
idea  of  bargaining  for  human  flesh  and  blood,  "  Heaven 
knows  it  is  not  my  nature  to  hold  any  one  in  bondage,  and 
I  shall  gladly  hail  the  day  which  sees  the  negro  free.  But 
I  cannot  now  help  myself  more  than  others  around  me. 
Our  slaves  are  our  property.  Take  them  from  us  and  w^e 
are  ruined  wholly.  Miss  Tolmson,  do  you  honestly  believe 
that  one  in  forty  of  those  northern  abolitionists  would  de- 
liberately give  up  ten —  twenty  —  fifty  thousand  dollars 
as  the  case  might  be,  just  because  the  thing  valued  at  that_ 
was  man  and  not  beast  ?  Xo,  indeed.  It's  very  easy  for 
them  to  tell  what  must  be  done,  but  hard  finding  one  to 
do  it.  Southern  people,  born  and  brought  up  in  the  midst 
of  slavery  can't  see  it  as  the  North  do,  and  there's  where 
the  mischief  lies.  Neither  understands  the  other,  and  I 
greatly  fear  the  day  is  not  far  distant  when  our  fair  Union 
shall  be  torn  in  tatters  by  enraged  and  furious  brothers." 

He  had  wandered  from  Lulu  and  Muggins  to  the  sub- 
ject which  then,  far  more  than  the  North  believed,  was 
agitating  the  Southern  mind,  but  Alice,  more  interested 
in  her  purchases  than  in  Secession,  of  w^hicli  she  had  no 
fears,  brought  him  back  to  the  point,  by  suggesting  that 
the  necessary  papers  be  made  out  at  once,  so  there  could 
be  no  mistake. 

They  had  ridden  far  enough  by  this  time,  for  Hugh  was 
beginning  to  look  tired,  and  so  tliey  turned  their  horses 
homeward,  talking  pleasantly  of  whatever  presented  itself 
to  Alice's  mind.  Once  as  Hugh  gave  her  a  look  which 
had  often  puzzled  and  mystified  her,  she  said,  "  Do  you 


HUGH    AND    ALICE.  221 

know  it  seems  to  me  I  must  have  seen  you  before  I  came 
to  Kentucky,  for  at  times  there  is  something  very  familiar 
in  your  fece." 

For  a  moment  Hugh  was  tempted  to  tell  her  where 
they  had  met  before,  but  feeling  that  he  was  not  quite 
ready  yet  to  do  so,  he  refrained,  and  making  her  some 
evasive  reply,  relapsed  into  a  thoughtful  mood  which  con 
tinued  until  Spring  Bank  was  reached. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

HUGH    A  X  D    A  L  I  C  E. 

Three  weeks  had  passed  away  since  that  memorable 
ride.  Mr.  Liston  after  paying  to  the  proper  recipients  the 
money  due  for  Mosside,  had  returned  to  Boston,  leaving 
the  neighborhood  to  gossip  of  Alice's  generosity,  and  to 
wonder  how  much  she  was  worth.  It  was  a  secret  yet 
that  Lulu  and  Muggins  were  hers,  but  the  story  of  Rock- 
et was  known,  and  numerous  were  the  surmises  as  to  what 
would  be  the  result  of  her  familiar  intercourse  with  Huarh. 
Already  was  the  effect  of  Iier  presence  visible  in  his  gen- 
tleness of  manner,  liis  care  to  observe  all  the  little  points 
of  etiquette  never  j.'ra'jticed  by  him  before,  and  his  atten- 
tion to  his  own  pers  n.d  appearance.  His  trousers  were  no 
longer  worn  inside  his  boots,  or  his  soft  hat  jammed  into 
every  conceivable  shape',  while  Ellen  Tiffton,  who  canu 
often  to  Spring  Bank,  and  was  supposed  to  be  good  author- 
*ty,  ])r()nounced  him  almost  as  stylish  looking  as  any  njau 
in  Woodford. 

It  is  strange  how  much  dress  and  a  little  care  as  to  its 
adjustment  can  do  for  one.  It  certainly  did  wonders  for 
Hugh,  who  knew  how  much  he  was  improved,  and  to  whcse 
influence  he  owed  it,  just  as  he  knew  of  the  mighty  love 


222  HUGH   WORTHINGTOX. 

he  bore  this  gentle  girl,  working  so  gi-eat  a  good  at  Spring 

Bank. 

To  Hugh,  Alice  was  every  thing,  and  sometimes  the 
thought  crossed  his  mind  that  possibly  he  might  win  her 
for  himsclfj  but  it  was  repudiated  as  soon  as  formed,  for  it 
could  not  be,  he  said,  that  one  like  Alice  Johnson  should 
ever  care  for  him ;  and  so,  between  hope  and  a  kind  of 
blissful  despair,  Hugh  lived  on  until  the  evening  of  the  day 
when  Adah  left  Spring  Bank  for  Terrace  Hill.  She  had 
intended  going  inmiediately  after  the  sale  at  Mosside,  but 
\yillie  had  been  ailing  ever  since,  and  that  had  detained 
her.  But  now  she  was  really  gone;  Hugh  had  accompani- 
ed her  to  Frankfort,  seeing  her  safely  off,  and  spending  the 
entire  day  in  town,  so  that  it  was  ratlier  late  when  he  re- 
turned to  Spring  Bank.  Being  unusually  fatigued  Mrs* 
Worthington  had  ah-eady  retired  and  as  Alice  was  not  in 
siglit,  Hugli  sat  down  alone  by  the  parlor  fire. 

He  was  sorry  Adah  was  gone  and  he  missed  her  sadly, 
but  it  was  not  so  much  of  her  he  was  thinking  as  of  Al- 
ice. During  the  last  few  days  she  had  puzzled  him  great- 
ly. Her  manner  liad  been  unusually  kind,  her  voice  un- 
usually soft  and  low  when  she  addressed  him,  while  sev- 
eral times  he  had  met  her  eyes  fixed  upon  him  with  an 
expression  he  could  not  fathom,  and  which  had  made  his 
heart  beat  high  as  hope  whis])er'^d  '>f  what  might  perhaps 
be,  in  spite  of  all  his  fears.  Poor  Hugh  !  he  never  dream- 
ed that  Alice's  real  feelings  towards  him  during  those 
few  days  were  those  of  pity,  as  she'  saw  how  silent  and 
moody  he  grew,  and  attributed  it  to  his  grief  at  parting 
wilh  Adah.  She  was  of  course  very  dear  to  him,  she 
BUi)posed,  and  Alice's  kind  heart  went  out  toward  him 
with  a  strong  desire  to  comfort  him,  to  tell  him  how  sho, 
as  far  as  possible,  would  fill  Adah's  place.  Had  she  dreain- 
ed  of  l.is  real  feelings,  she  never  would  have  done  what 
she  did,  but  she  was  wholly  unconscious  of  it,  and  so 
when,  late  that  night,  she  returned  to  the  parlor  in  quest 


HUGH   AND   ALICE.  223 

of  something  she  had  left,  and  found  him  sitting  there 
akne,  she  paused  a  moment  on  the  threshold,  wondering 
if  she  had  better  join  him  or  go  away.  Ills  back  was  to 
ward  her,  and  he  did  not  hear  her  light  step,  so  intently 
was  he  gazing  into  the  burning  grate,  and  tr}ing  to  frame 
the  words  he  should  say  if  ever  he  dared  tell  Alice  John 
son  of  his  love. 

There  was  much  girlish  playfulness  in  Alice's  naturej 
and  gliding  across  the  carpet,  she  clasped  both  her  hands 
before  his  eyes,  and  exclaimed  — 

"  A  penny  for  your  thoughts." 

Hugh  started  as  suddenly  as  if  some  apparition  had 
appeared  before  him,  and  blushing  guiltily,  clasped  and 
held  upon  his  face  the  little  soft,  warm  hands  which  did 
not  tremble,  but  lay  still  beneath  his  own.  It  was  Prov 
idence  which  sent  her  there,  he  thought ;  Providence  in  • 
dicating  that  he  might  speak,  and  he  would. 

"  I  am  glad  you  have  come.  I  wish  to  talk  with  you," 
he  said,  drawing  her  down  into  a  chair  beside  him,  and 
placing  his  arm  lightly  across  its  back.  "  What  sent  you 
here,  Alice  ?  I  supposed  you  had  retired,"  he  continued, 
bending  upon  her  a  look  which  made  her  slightly  uncom- 
fortable. 

But  she  soon  recovered,  and  ansvvered  laughingly  — 

"  1  came  for  my  scissors,  and  finding  you  here  alone, 
thought  I  would  startle  you,  but  you  aave  not  told  me 
yet  of  what  you  were  thinking." 

"Of  the  present,  j5ast  and  future,"  he  replied;  then 
letting  his  hand  drop  from  the  back  of  the  chair  upon 
her  shoulder,  he  continued,  "May  I  talk  freely  with  you? 
May  I  tell  you  of  myself,  what  I  was,  what  I  am,  what  I 
hope  to  be  ?  " 

His  hand  upon  h^r  shoulder  made  Alice  a  little  uneasy 
but  he  had  put  it  there  in  such  a  quiet,  matter  of  course 
way,  that  he  might  think  her  prudish    if  she    objected. 
Still  her  cheeks  burned,  and  her  voice   was    not   quittj 
steady,  as,  rising  from  her  seat,  she  said, 


224  HUGH   WORTHING  TON. 

**I  like  a  stool  better  than  this  chair.  Ill  bring  it  and 
sit  at  your  feet.  Tliere,  now  I  am  ready  ;  "  and  seating 
herself  at  a  safe  distance  from  him,  Alice  waited  for  him 
to  commence. 

But  Hugh  was  in  no  hurry  tlien ;  that  little  act  of 
hers  had  cliilled  him  somewhat.  Perhaps  she  did  not 
like  his  arm  around  her,  perhaps  she  never  would, 
and  tliat  was  the  saddest  thought  of  all.  She  had  never 
looked  to  him  as  she  did  to-night,  sitting  there  beside 
hiui  with  tlie  firelight  flilling  upon  her  bright  fair  hair 
curling  so  gracefully  about  her  forehead  and  neck. 

On  the  high  mantel  a  large  mirror  was  standing,  and 
glancing  towards  it,  Hugh  caught  the  reflection  of  both 
their  figures,  and  with  his  usual  depreciation  of  himself j 
felt  the  contrast  bitterly.  This  beautiful  young  girl 
could  not  care  for  him  ;  it  were  folly  to  think  of  it,  and 
he  sat  for  a  moment  silent,  fprgetting  that  Alice  was 
waiting  for  him  to  speak.  She  grew  tired  of  waiting  at 
last,  and'  turning  her  eyes  upon  him,  said  gently, 

"  You  seem  unhappy  about  something.  Is  it  because 
Adah  has  gone  ?  I  am  sorry,  too  ;  but,  Hugh,  I  will  do 
what  I  can  to  fill  her  place.  I  will  be  the  sister  you 
need  so  much.  Don't  look  so  wretched  ;  it  makes  me  feel 
badly  to  see  you." 

Alice's  sympathy  was  getting  the  better  of  her  again, 
and  she  moved  her  stool  nearer  to  Hugh,  while  she  invol- 
untarily laid  her  hand  upon  his  knee.  That  decided 
him  ;  and  while  his  heart  throbbed  almost  to  bursting,  he 
began  by  saying, 

**  I  am  in  rather  a  gloomy  mood  to-night,  I'll  admit.  I 
do  feel  Adah's  leaving  us  very  much  ;  but  that  is  not  alL 
I  have  wished  to  talk  with  you  a  long  time  —  wished  to 
tell  you  how  I  feel.  May  I,  Alice  ?  —  may  I  open  to  you 
ray  whole  heart,  and  show  you  what  is  there  ?  " 

For  a  moment  Alice  felt  a  thrill  of  fear-^  a  dread  of 
what   the   opening   of  his   heart   to  her  might  disclose. 


HUGH    AND    ALICE.  225 

Then  she  remembered  Golden  Hair,  whose  name  she  had 
never  hoard  him  breathe,  save  as  it  passed  his  delirioua 
lips.  It  was  of  her  he  would  talk ;  he  would  tell  her  of 
that  hidden  love  whose  existence  she  felt  sure  was  not 
krtown  at  Spring  Bank.  Alice  would  rather  not  have 
had  this  confidence,  for  the  deep  love-life  of  such  as 
Hugh  Worthington  seemed  to  her  a  sacred  thing;  but  he 
looked  so  white,  so  care-worn,  so  much  as  if  it  would  be 
a  relief,  that  Alice  answered  at  last : 

"Yes,  Hugh,  you  may  tell,  and  I  will  listen." 

She  moved  her  stool  still  nearer  to  him,  beginning  now 
to  feel  anxious  herself  to  hear  of  one  whose  very  memo- 
ry had  influenced  Hugh  for  good. 

So  sure  was  Alice  that  it  was  Golden  Hair  of  whom  he 
would  talk,  that  when,  by  way  of  a  commencement,  he 
said  to  her,  "  Can  you  guess  what  I  would  tell  you  ?  "  she 
answered  involuntarily : 

"  I  guess  it  is  of  somebody  you  have  loved,  or  do  love 
still." 

There  was  no  tremor  in  her  voice,  no  flush  in  her  cheek, 
no  drooping  of  the  long  lashes  to  cover  her  confusion ; 
and  yet  deluded  Hugh  believed  she  knew  his  secret,  and 
alas!  believed  his  love  reciprocated;  else  why  should  she 
thus  encourage  him  to  go  on  !  It  was  the  happiest  mo- 
ment Hugh  had  ever  known,  and  for  a  time  he  could  not 
speak,  as  he  thought  how  strange  it  was  that  a  joy  so 
perfect  as  this  should  come  to  be  his  lot.  Poor,  poor 
Hugh ! 

He  began  at  last  by  telling  Alice  of  his  early  boyhood, 
nnchcered  by  a  single  word  of  sympathy  save  as  it  came 
Tom  dear  Aunt  Eunice,  who  alone  understood  the  way. 
^ard  boy  whom  people  thought  so  bad. 

"Then  mother  and  Ad.  came  to  Spring  Bank,  and 
that  opened  to  me  a  new  era.  In  my  odd  way,  I  loved 
my  mother  so  much  —  but  Ad.  —  say,  Alice,  is  it  wicked 
in  me  if  I  can't  love  Ad.  ?  " 


226  HUGH    WORTHINGTON. 

"  She  is  your  sister,"  was  Alice's  reply ;  and  Hugh  ro 
joined : 

"  Yes  —  my  sister.  I'm  sorry  for  it,  even  if  it's  wicked 
to  be  sorry.  I  tried  to  do  my  best  with  her  —  tried  to  be 
as  gentle  as  I  could ;  but  she  did  not  understand  me. 
She  gave  me  back  only  scorn  and  bitter  words,  until  my 
heart  closed  up  against  her,  and  I  harshly  judged  all  oth- 
ei"8  l>y  her  —  all  but  one  ;  and  Hugh's  voice?  grew  very 
low  and  tender  in  its  tone,  while  Alice  felt  that  now  he 
was  nearing  the  Golden  Hair. 

"  Away  off  in  New  England  there  was  a  pure  white 
blossom  growing,  a  blossom  so  pure,  so  fair,  that  very 
few  were  worthy  even  so  much  as  to  look  upon  it,  as 
day  by  day  it  unfolded  some  new  beauty.  There  was 
nothing  to  support  this  flower  but  a  single  parent  stalk, 
which  snapped  asunder  one  day,  and  Blossom  was  left 
alone.  It  was  a  strange  idea,  transplanting  it  to  another 
soil ;  for  the  atmosphere  of  Spring  Bank  was  not  suited 
to  such  as  she.  But  she  came,  and,  as  by  magic,  the 
whole  atmosphere  was  changed  —  changed  at  least  to  one 
—  the  bad,  wayward  Hugh,  who  dared  to  love  this  fair 
young  girl  with  a  love  stronger  than  his  life.  For  her  he 
would  do  anything,  and  beneath  her  influence  he  did  im- 
prove rapidly.  He  was  conscious  of  it  himself —  conscious 
of  a  greater  degree  of  self-respect  —  a  desire  to  be  what 
she  would  like  to  have  him. 

*'  She  was  very,  very  beautiful ;  more  so  than  anything 
Hugh  had  ever  looked  upon.  Her  face  was  like  an  angel's 
face,  and  her  hair  —  much  like  yours,  Alice ; "  and  ho  laid 
his  hand  on  the  bright  head,  now  bent  down,  so  that  he 
could  not  see  that  face  so  like  an  angel's. 

The  little  hand,  too,  had  slidden  from  his  knee,  and, 
fast-locked  within  the  other,  was  buried  in  Alice's  lap,  as 
she  listened  with  throbbing  heart  to  the  story  Hugh  was 
telling. 

"  In  all  the  world  there  was  nothing  so  dear  to  Hugh  as 


HUGH    AND    ALICE.  227 

this  young  girl.  He  thought  of  her  by  day  and  dreamed 
of  her  by  night,  seeing  always  in  the  darkness  her  face, 
with  its  eyes  of  blue  bending  over  him  —  hearing  the  mu- 
sic of  her  voice,  like  the  falling  of  distant  water,  and  even 
feeling  the  soft  touch  of  her  hands  as  he  fancied  them 
laid  upon  his  brow.  She  was  good,  too,  as  beautiful ;  and 
it  was  this  very  goodness  which  won  on  Hugh  so  fast, 
making  him  pray  often  that  he  might  be  worthy  of  ner 
—  for,  Alice,  he  came  at  last  to  dream  that  he  could  win 
her ;  she  was  so  kind  to  him  —  she  spoke  to  him  so  softly 
and,  by  a  thousand  little  acts,  endeared  herself  to  him 
more  and  more. 

"Heaven  forgive  her  if  she  misled  him  all  this  while  ; 
but  she  did  not.  It  were  worse  than  death  to  think  she 
did  —  to  know  I've  told  her  this  in  vain  —  have  offered  her 
my  heart  only  to  have  it  thrust  back  upon  me  as  some- 
thing she  does  not  want.  Speak,  Alice  !  in  mercy,  speak! 
Can  it  be  that  I'm  mistaken  ?  " 

Something  in  her  manner  had  wrung  out  this  cry  of  fear 
and  now,  bending  over  her  as  she  sat  with  her  face  buried 
in  her  lap  he  waited  for  her  answ^er.  It  had  come  like  a 
thunderbolt  to  Alice,  that  she,  and  not  Golden  Hair,  w^as 
the  subject  of  his  story  —  she  the  fair  blossom  growing 
among  the  New  England  hills.  She  did  not  guess  that 
they  were  one  and  the  same,  for  Hugh  would  not  have 
her  swayed  ever  so  slightly  by  gratitude. 

Alice  saw  how  she  had  led  him  on,  and  her  white  lips 
quivered  with  pain,  for,  alas !  she  did  not  love  him  as  he 
should  be  loved,  and  she  could  not  deceive  him,  though 
every  fibre  of  her  heart  bled  and  ached  for  him.  Lifting 
lip  her  head  at  last  she  exclaimed, 

"  You  don't  mean  me,  Hugh  ?  Oh,  you  don't  mean 
me?" 

"  Yes,  darling,"  and  he  clasped  in  his  own  the  hand 
raised  imploringly  toward  him.  "  Yes,  darling,  I  mean 
you.    1  love  you  and  you  must  be  mine.    I  shall  die  with- 


228  HUGH    WOnTIIINGTOW. 

out  you.  You  can  mould  me  at  your  will.  You  can 
teach  me  tlie  narrow  way  I  want  to  find,  Alice,  more 
than  you  guess.  We  will  walk  it  hand  in  hand,  yours 
the  stronger  one  at  first,  mine  the  stronger  last,  wliea 
I've  been  taught  by  you.  Will  you,  Alice,  will  you  be 
my  wife,  my  darling,  my  idol?  I  know  I  have  no 
money,  just  as  I  know  you  do  not  care  for  that.  You 
will  n'ot  prize  me  less  for  daring  to  ask  you,  an  heiress,  to 
be  mine.  I  have  no  money,  no  position,  but  I  have  will- 
ing hands  and  a  loving  heart,  which  will  answer  in  their 
stead.     Will  you  be  my  wife  ?  " 

Alice  had  never  before  heard  a,  voice  so  earnest,  so  full 
of  meaning,  as  the  one  now  pleading  with  her  to  be  what 
she  could  not  be,  and  a  pang  keener  than  any  she  had 
ever  felt,  or  believed  it  possible  for  her  to  feel,  shot 
through  her  heart  as  the  dread  conviction  was  forced 
upon  her  that  she  was  to  blame  for  all  this.  She  had 
misled  him,  unwittingly,  it  is  true,  but  that  did  not  help 
him  now ;  the  harm,  the  wrong  were  just  the  same,  and 
they  loomed  up  before  her  in  all  their  appalling  magni- 
tude. What  could  she  do  to  atone  ?  Alas !  there  was 
nothing  except  to  be  what  he  asked,  and  that  she  could  not 
do.  She  could  not  be  Ilugh's  wife.  She  would  as  soon 
have  married  her  brother,  if  she  had  one.  But  she  must 
do  something,  and  sliding  from  her  stool  she  sank  upon 
her  knees  —  her  proper  attitude  —  upon  her  knees  before 
Hugh,  whom  she  had  wronged  so  terribly,  and  burying 
her  face  in  Hugh's  own  hands,  she  sobbed, 

"  Oh,  Hugh,  Hugh,  you  don't  know  what  you  ask.  I 
love  you  dearly,  but  only  as  my  brother  —  believe  me, 
Hugh,  only  as  a  brother.  I  wanted  one  so  much  —  one 
of  my  own,  I  mean  ;  but  God  denied  that  wish,  and  gave 
me  you  instead.  I  did  not  like  you  at  first  —  that  is,  be- 
fore I  saw  yon.  I  was  sorry  you  wore  here,  but  I  got 
ovei  that.  I  pitied  first,  and  then  I  came  to  like  or  love 
you  so  much,  but  only  as  my  brother ;  and  if  I  let  yon 


HUGH    AND    ALICE.  229 

see  that  love,  it  was  because  it  is  ray  nature  to  caress 
those  whom  I  love  — because  I  thought  yo.i  understood 
that  'twas  only  as  my  brother.  I  cannot  be  your  wife. 
1  —  oh,  Hugh,  forgive  me  for  making  you  so  unhappy. 
I'm  sorry  I  ever  came  here,  but  I  cannot  go  away.  I've 
learned  to  love  my  Kentucky  home.  Let  me  stay  just 
the  same.  Let  me  really  be  what  I  thought  I  wa?,  your 
pister.     You  will  not  send  me  away  ?  " 

She  looked  up  at  him  now,  but  quickly  turned  aAvay, 
for  the  expression  of  his  white,  haggard  foce  was  moro 
than  she  could  bear,  and  she  knew  there  was  a  pain, 
keener  than  any  she  had  felt,  a  pang  which  must  be  terri- 
ble, to  crush  a  strong  man  as  Hugh  was  crushed. 

"Forgive  me,  Hugh,"  she  said,  as  he  did  not  speak,  but 
sat  gazing  at  her  in  a  kind  of  stunned  bewilderment. 
"You  Avould  not  have  me  for  your  wife,  if  I  did  not  love 
you?" 

«  Never,  Alice,  never !  "  he  answered  ;  "  but  it  is  not  any 
easier  to  bear.  I  don't  know  why  I  asked  you,  why  I 
dared  hope  that  you  could  think  of  me.  I  might  have 
known  you  could  not.  Nobody  does.  I  cannot  win  their 
love.     I  don't  know  how." 

He  put  her  gently  from  him,  and  arose  to  leave  the  room, 
but  something  mastered  his  will,  and  brought  him  back 
again  to  where  she  knelt,  her  face  upon  his  chair,  as  she 
silently  prayed  to  know  just  what  was  right.  Something 
she  had  said  about  his  sending  her  away  rang  in  his  ears, 
and  he  felt  that  the  knowing  she  was  gone  would  be  the 
bitterest  dreg  in  all  the  bitter  cup,  so  he  said  to  her,  en- 
Ireatingly  — 

"  Alice,  I  know  you  cannot  be  my  wife  —  I  do  not  ex 
pect  it  now,  but  I  want  you  here  all  the  same.  Promise 
that  you  will  stay,  at  least  until  my  rival  claims  you." 

Alice  neither  looked  up  nor  moved,  only  sobbed  pite- 
ously,  and  this  more  than  aught  else  helped  Hugh  to 
choke  down  his  own  sorrow  for  the  sake  of  comforting 


230  HUGH    WORTIIINGTON. 

her.     The  sight  of  her  distress  moved  Iiim  greatly,  for  he 
kuew  it  was  grief  that  she  had  so  cruelly  misled  him. 

"  Alice,  darling,"  he  said  again,  this  time  as  a  mother 
would  soothe  her  child.  "  It  hurts  me  more  to  see  you 
thus  than  your  refusal  did.  I  am  not  wholly  selfish  in 
in>  love,  rd  rather  you  should  be  happy  than  to  be  hap- 
py myself.  I  would  not  for  the  world  take  to  my  bosom 
ar  unwilling  wife.  I  should  be  jealous  even  of  my  own 
caresses,  jealous  lest  the  very  act  disgusted  her  more  and 
more.  You  did  not  mean  to  deceive  me.  It  was  I  that 
deceived  myself.  I  forgive  you  fully,  and  ask  you  to  for- 
get that  to-night  has  ever  been.  It  cut  me  sorely  at  first, 
Alice,  to  hear  you  tell  me  so,  but  I  shall  get  over  it ;  the 
wound  will  heal." 

He  said  this  flilteringly,  for  the  wound  bled  and  throb 
bed  at  every  pore,  but  he  would  comfort  her.  She  should 
not  know  how  much  he  suffered.  "  The  wound  will  heal. 
Even  now  I  am  feeling  better,  can  almost  see  my  w^ay 
through  the  darkness." 

Poor  Hugh  !  He  mentally  asked  forgiveness  for  tha^ 
falsehood  told  for  her  He  could  not  see  his  way  through, 
—  his  brain  was  giddy,  and  his  soul  sick  with  that  dull 
dreadful  pain  which  is  so  hard  to  be  borne,  but  he  could 
hide  his  misery,  for  her  sake,  and  he  would. 

"Please,  don't  cry,"  he  said,  stooping  over  her,  and 
lifting  her  tenderly  up.  "  I  shall  get  over  it.  A  man  can 
bear  better  than  a  woman,  and  even  if  I  should  not,  I 
would  rather  have  loved  and  lost  you,  than  not  to  have 
known  and  loved  you  at  all.  The  memory  of  what  might 
have  been  Avill  keep  me  from  much  sin.  There,  darling, 
let  me  wij^e  the  tears  away,  let  me  hear  you  say  you  are 
}>etter." 

"Oh,  Hugh,  don't,  you  break  my  heart.  I'd  rather 
you  should  scorn  or  even  hate  me  for  the  sorrow  I  have 
brought.     Such    unselfish   kindness    will  kill  me,"  Alice 


HUGH    AND    ALICE.  231 

sobbed,  for  never  had  she  been   so  touched  as  b^  this  in- 
sight into  the  real  character  of  the  man  she  had  refused. 

He  would  not  hold  her  long  in  his  arms,  though  it  were 
bliss  to  do  so,  and  putting  her  gently  in  the  chair,  he  lean- 
ed his  own  poor  sick  head  upon  the  mantel,  while  Alice 
watche^d  him  with  streaming  eyes  and  an  aching  heart 
which  even  then  half  longed  to  give  itself  into  his  keep- 
ing. She  did  not  love  him  with  a  wife-like  love,  she  knew 
but  she  might  in  time,  and  she  pitied  him  so  much.  And 
Hugh  had  need  for  pity.  He  had  tried  to  quiet  her ;  had 
said  it  was  no  matter,  that  he  should  get  over  it,  that  he 
need  not  care,  but  the  agony  it  cost  him  to  say  all  this 
was  visible  in  every  feature,  and  Alice  looked  at  him  with 
wondering  awe  as  he  stood  there  silently  battling  with 
the  blow  he  would  not  permit  to  smite  him  down. 

At  last  it  was  Alice's  turn  to  speak,  hers  the  task  to 
comfort.  The  prayer  she  had  inwardly  breathed  for  gui- 
dance to  act  aright  had  not  been  unheard,  and  with  a 
strange  calmness  she  arose,  and  laying  her  hand  on  Hugh's 
arm,  bade  him  be  seated,  while  she  told  him  what  she  had 
to  say.  He  obeyed  her,  sinking  into  the  offered  chair, 
and  then  standing  before  him,  she  began, 

"  You  do  not  wish  me  to  go  away,  you  say.  1  have  no 
desire  to  go,  except  it  should  be  better  for  you.  Even 
though  I  may  not  be  your  wife,  I  can,  perhaps,  minister  to 
your  happiness ;  and,  Hugh,  we  will  forget  to-night,  and 
be  to  each  other  what  we  were  before,  brother  and  sister. 
There  must  be  no  particular  perceptible  change  of  man- 
ner, lest  others  should  suspect  what  has  passed  between 
08.     Do  you  agree  to  this  ?  " 

He  bowed  his  head,  and  Alice  drew  a  step  nearer  to 
him,  hesitating  a  moment  ere  she  continued. 

"  You  speak  of  a  rival.  But  believe  me,  Hugh,  you 
have  none,  there  is  not  a  man  in  the  wide  world  whom  I 

like  as  much  as  I  do  you,  and  Hugh "  the  little  hand 

pressed  more  closely  on  Hugh's  shoulder,  while  Alice's 


232  HUGH    WORTniXGlON. 

breath  came  heavily,  "  And,  Hugh,  it  may  be,  that  in  time 
I  can  conscientiously  give  you  a  diderent  answer  from 
what  I  did  to-night.  I  may  love  you  as  your  wife  should 
love  you  ;  and  —  and,  if  I  do,  I'll  tell  you  so  at  the  prop 
er  time." 

There  was  a  gleam  of  sunshine  now  to  illumine  the 
thick  darkness,  and,  in  the  first  moments  of  his  joy  Hugh 
wound  his  arm  around  the  slight  form,  and  tried  to  bring 
it  nearer  to  him.     But  Alice  stepped  back  and  answered, 

"  No,  Hugh,  that  w^ould  be  wrong.  It  may  be  I  shall 
never  come  to  love  you  save  as  I  love  you  now,  but  I'll 
try  —  I  will  try,"  and  unmindful  of  her  charge  to  him 
Alice  parted  the  damp  curls  clustering  around  his  fore- 
head, and  looked  into  his  face  with  an  expression  which 
made  his  heart  bound  and  throb  with  the  sudden  hope, 
that  even  now  she  loved  him  better  than  she  supposed. 

It  was  growing  very  late,  and  the  clock  in  the  adjoin- 
ing room  struck  one  ere  Alice  bade  Hugh  good  night,  say- 
ing to  him, 

"No  one  must  know  of  this.  We'll  be  just  the  same 
to  each  other  as  we  have  been." 

"Yes, just  the  same,  if  that  can  be,"  Hugh  answered, 
and  so  they  parted,  Alice  to  her  room,  where,  in  the  soli- 
tude, she  could  pray  for  that  guidance  without  which  she 
was  nothing,  and  Hugh  to  his,  where  he,  too,  prayed,  this 
night  with  a  greater  earnestness  than  ever  he  had  done 
before  —  not  for  Golden  Hair  to  come  back,  as  of  old, 
but  that  he  might  be  led  into  the  path  she  trod,  and  so 
be  worthy  of  her,  should  the  glad  time  ever  come  when 
she  might  be  his. 

Hugh'  had  not  yet  learned  the  faith  ^^Tiich  asks  for 
»ood,  that  God  shall  be  glorified  rather  than  our  own  de- 
siies  fulfilled;  hut  he  who  prays,  ever  so  impeifectly,  is 
better  for  it,  because  the  very  act  of  praying  implies  a 
faith  in  somebody  to  hear;  and  so  soothed  into  compara- 
tive quiet  by  the  petition  offered,  Hugh  fell  into  a  quiet 


233 


slumber,  and  slept  on  undisturbed  until  Muggins  came  to 
wake  him. 


CHAPTER   XXYL      - 

a.dah's   journey. 

The  night  express  from  Rochester  to  Albany  was  crowd* 
ed.  Every  car  was  full,  and  the  clamorous  bell  rang  out 
its  first  summons  for  all  to  get  on  board,  just  as  a 
frightened-looking  woman,  bearing  in  her  arms  a  sleeping 
boy,  stepped  upon  the  platform  of  the  rear  carriage,  and 
looked  wistfully  in  at  the  long,  dark  line  of  passengers  fill- 
ing every  seat.  Wearily,  anxiously,  she  had  passed 
through  every  car,  beginning  at  the  first,  her  tired  eyes 
scanning  each  occupant,  as  if  mutely  begging  some  one 
to  have  pity  on  her  ere  exhausted  nature  failed  entirely, 
and  she  sank  fainting  to  the  floor.  None  had  heeded 
that  silent  appeal,  though  many  had  marked  the  pallor 
of  her  girlish  face,  and  the  extreme  beauty  of  the  baby 
features  nestling  in  her  bosom.  She  could  not  hold  out 
much  longer,  and  when  she  reached  the  last  car  and  saw 
that  too  was  full,  the  chin  quivered,  and  a  tear  glistened 
in  the  long  eyelashes,  sweeping  the  colorless  cheek. 

Slowly  she  passed  up  the  aisle  until  she  came  to  where 
there  was  a  vacant  seat,  only  a  gentleman's  shawl  was 
piled  upon  it,  and  the  gentleman  looking  so  unconcernedly 
from  the  window,  and  apparently  oblivious  of  her  close 
proximity  to  him,  would  not  surely  object  to  her  sitting 
there.  How  the  tired  woman  did  wish  he  would  turn  to- 
ward her  and  give  some  token  that  she  was  welcome.  But 
no,  his  eyes  were  only  intent  on  the  darkness  without ;  he 
had  no  care  for  her,  though  he  knew  she  was  there.  He 
had  seen  the  shrinking  figure  with  its  sleeping  burden,  a0 


234  HUGH   WOKTHINGTON. 

it  came  in,  and  the  selfishness  which  was  so  much  a  part 
of  his  whole  being,  prompted  him  to  cover  the  seal  as  far 
as  possible  with  his  long  limbs,  while  leaning  his  elbow 
upon  the  window  stool,  he  seemed  absorbed  in  something 
outside,  peering  into  the  foggy  darkness,  for  it  was  a 
rainy  winter's  night,  as  persistently  as  if  there  were  stand- 
ing before  him  no  half-fainting  fonn,  ready  to  sink  down 
at  his  feet. 

The  oil  lamp  was  burning  dimly,  and  the  girPs  white 
face  was  lost  in  the  shadow,  when  the  young  man  first 
glanced  at  her,  so  he  had  no  suspicion  of  the  truth, 
though  a  most  undefinable  sensation  crept  over  him  when 
he  heard  the  timid  footfall,  and  the  rustling  of  female  gar- 
ments as  Adah  Hastings  drew  near  with  her  boy  in  her 
arms. 

He  heard  its  faint  breathings,  and  half  turned  his  head 
just  as  Adah  passed  on,  her  weary  sigh  falling  distinctly 
on  his  ear,  but  failing  to  awaken  a  feeling  of  remorse  for 
his  unmanly  conduct. 

"  I'm  glad  she's  gone.  I  can't  be  bothered,"  was  his 
mental  comment  as  he  settled  himself  more  comfortably, 
feeling  a  glow  of  satisfaction  when  the  train  began  to 
move,  and  he  knew  no  more  women  with  their  babiea 
would  be  likely  to  trouble  him. 

With  that  first  heavy  strain  of  the  machinery  Adah 
lost  her  balance,  and  would  have  fallen  headlong  but  for 
the  friendly  hand  put  forth  to  save  the  fall. 

"  Take  my  seat,  miss.  It  is  not  very  convenient,  but 
it  is  better  than  none.     I  can  find  another." 

It  was  the  friendliest  voice  imaginable  which  said  these 
words  to  Adah,  and  the  kind  tone  in  which  they  were 
uttered  wrung  the  hot  tears  from  her  eyes.  She  did  not 
look  up  at  him.  She  only  knew  that  a  gentleman  had 
risen  and  was  bending  over  her;  that  a  hand,  was  laid 
upon  her  shoulder,  putting  her  gently  into  the  narrow 
Beat  next  the  saloon ;  that  the  same  hand  took  from  her 


Adah's  journey.  235 

and  bung  above  bei  head  tbe  little  satcbel  wbicb  was  so 
much  in  her  way,  and  that  the  manly  voice,  so  sympa- 
thetic in  its  tone,  asked  if  she  would  be  too  warm,  so 
'  near  the  fire. 

She  did  not  know  there  was  a  fire.  She  only  knew 
that  she  had  found  a  friend,  and  with  the  delicious  feel- 
ing of  safety  which  the  knowledge  brought,  the  tension 
of  her  nerves  gave  way,  and  burpng  her  head  on  Wil- 
lie's face  she  wept  for  a  moment  silently.  Then  lifting  it 
up  she  tried  to  thank  her  benefactor,  looking  now  at  him 
for  the  first  time,  and  feeling  half  overawed  to  find  him 
so  tall,  so  stylish,  so  exceedingly  refined  in  every  look  and 
action.  Why  had  he  cared  for  her  ?  What  was  there 
about  her  to  win  attention  from  such  as  he  ?  Nothing ; 
his  kindness  was  natural ;  it  sprang  from  the  great  warm 
heart,  shining  out  from  the  eyes,  seen  beneath  the  glasses 
which  he  wore ! 

Irvino-  Stanley  was  a  passenger  on  that  train,  bound 
for  Albany.  Like  Dr.  Richards,  he  had  hoped  to  enjoy  a 
whole  seat,  even  though  it  were  not  a  very  comfortable 
one,  but  he  would  not  resort  to  meanness  for  the  sake  of 
his  own  ease ;  so  when  he  saw  how  pale  and  tired  Adah 
was,  he  rose  at  once  to  ofier  his  seat.  He  did  not  then 
observe  her  face,  or  dress,  or  manner.  He  only  saw  she 
was  a  delicate  woman,  travelling  alone,  and  that  was 
enough  to  elicit  his  attention.  He  heard  her  sweet,  low 
voice  as  she  tried  to  thank  him,  and  felt  intuitively  that 
she  was  neither  coarse  nor  vulgar.  He  saw,  too,  the 
little,  soft,  white  hands,  holding  so  fast  to  Willie.  Was 
he  her  brother  or  her  son  ?  She  was  young  to  be  his 
mother;  but,  there  was  no  mistaking  the  mother-love 
ghining  out  from  the  brown  eyes  turned  so  quickly  upon 
the  boy  when  he  moaned,  as  if  in  pain,  and  seemed  about 
to  waken. 

« He's  been  sick  most  all  the  way,"  she  said,  holding 
him  closer  to  her  bosom.     "  There's  something  the  mat- 


236  HUGH   WORTHINGTON. 

ter  witn  his  ear.  Do  children  ever  die  with  the  ear- 
ache ?  "  and  the  eyes,  swimming  in  tears,  sought  the  face 
of  Irving  Stanley  as  eagerly  as  if  on  his  decision  hung 
little  Willie's  life. 

Irving  Stanley  hardly  thought  they  did.  At  all  events 
he  never  heard  of  such  a  case,  and  then,  after  suggesting 
a  remedy,  should  the  pain  return,  he  left  his  new  acqiain- 
tance  and  walked  down  the  car  in  quest  of  another  seat. 

"A  part  of  your  seat,  sir,  if  you  please,"  and  Irving's 
voice  w*a8  rather  authoritative  than  otherwise,  as  he 
claimed  the  half  of  what  the  doctor  was  monopolizing. 

It  was  of  no  use  for  Dr.  Richards  to  pretend  he  was 
asleep,  for  Irving  spoke  so  quietly,  so  like  a  man  who 
knew  what  he  was  doing,  that  the  doctor  was  compelled 
to  yield,  and  turning  about,  recognized  his  Saratoga  ac- 
quaintance. The  recognition  was  mutual,  and  after  a 
few  natural  remarks,  Irving  explained  how  he  had  given 
his  seat  to  a  lady  whose  little  child  was  suffering  from 
the  ear-ache. 

"  By  the  way,  doctor,"  he  added,  "  you  ought  to  know 
the  remedy  for  such  ailments.  Suppose  yc  u  prescribe  in 
case  it  returns. 

"  I  know  but  little  about  babies  or  their  aches"  the  Dr. 
answered,  just  as  a  scream  of  pain  reached  his  ear,  accom- 
panied by  a  suppressed  effort  on  the  mother's  part  to 
soothe  her  suffering  child. 

Irving  Stanley  felt  the  sneer  implied  in  the  doctor's 
words,  and  it  kept  him  silent  for  a  time,  while  scream 
after  scream  filled  the  car,  and  roused  every  sleeping  occu- 
I)ant  to  ask  what  was  the  matter.  Some,  and  atnong  them 
the  doctor,  cursed  the  child  thus  disturbing  their  slum 
bers  ;  some  wished  it  anything  but  complimentary  wish- 
es; some  felt  and  evinced  real  sympathy,  while  nearly  all 
glanced  backward  at  the  dark  corner  where  the  poof 
mother  sat  bending  over  her  infant,   unniiudful  of  the 


adah's  journey.  237 

many  curious  looks  cast  upon  her.     The  pain  must  have 
been  intolerable,  for  the  little  fellow,  in  his  agony,  writhed 
from  Adah's  lap  and  sank  upon  the  floor,  his  whole  form 
quivering  with  anguish  as  he  cried,  «  Oh,  ma !  ma  !  ma 
ma ! " 

The  hardest  heart  could  scarce  withstand  that  scene 
and  many  now  gathered  near,  offering  advice  and  help 
while  even  Dr.  Richards  experienced  a  most  unaccounta 
ble  sensation  as  that  baby  cry  smote  on  his  ear.     Foremost 
among  those   who  offered  aid  was  Irving  Stanley.     His 
was  the  voice  which  breathed  comfort  to  the  weeping 
Adah,  his  the  hand  extended  to  take  up  little  Willie,  his 
the  arms  which  held  and  soothed  the  struggling  boy,  his 
the  mind  which  thought  of  everything  available  that  could 
possibly  bring  ease,  until  at  last  the  outcries  ceased  and 
Willie  lay  quietly  in  his  arras. 

« I'll  take  him  now,"  and  Adah  put  out  her  hands ;  but 
Willie  refused  to  go,  and  clung  closer  to  Mr.  Stanley,  who 
said,  laughingly,  "  You  see  that  I  am  preferred.  He  is 
too  heavy  for  you  to  hold.  Please  trust  him  to  me, 
awhile." 

And  Adah  yielded  to  that  voice,  and  leaning  against 
the  window,  rested  her  tired  head  upon  her  hand,  w^hile 
Irving  carried  Willie  to  his  seat  beside  the  doctor. 
There  was  a  slight  sneer  on  the  doctor's  fece  as  he  saw  the 
little  boy,  but  Irving  Stanley  he  knew  was  not  one  whose 
acts  could  be-quesrioned  by  him  ;  so  he  contented  himself 
with  saying,  "  You  must  be  fond  of  young  ones." 

"Fond  of  children,"  Irving  replied,  laying  great  stress 
on  the  word  children.  "Yes,  I  am,  very;  and  even  if  I 
were  not,  pity  would  prompt  me  to  take  this  one  from  his 
mother,  w^ho  is  so  tired,  besides  being  very  pretty,  and 
that  you  knows  goes  far  with  us  men." 

"  You  don't  like  children,  I  reckon,"  Irving  continued, 
as  the  doctor  drew  back  from  the  little  feet  which  uncon- 
Bciously  touched  his  lap. 


238  HUGH   WORTHING  TON. 

"  No,  I  hate  them,"  was  tlie  answer,  spoken  half  sav» 
agely,  for  at  that  moment  a  tiny  hand  was  deliberately 
laid  on  his,  as  Willie  showed  a  disposition  to  be  friendly. 
*'  I  hate  them,"  and  the  little  hand  was  pushed  rudely  off. 

Wonderingly  the  soft,  large  eyes  of  the  child  looked  up 
to  hie.  Something  in  their  expression  riveted  the  doctor's 
gaze  as  by  a  spell.  There  were  tears  in  the  baby's  eyes, 
and  the  pretty  lip  began  to  quiver.  The  doctor's  finer 
feelings,  if- he  had  any,  were  touched,  and  muttering  to 
himself,  "  I'm  a  brute,"  he  slouched  his  riding  cap  still 
lower  down  upon  his  forehead,  and  turning  away  to  the 
window,  relapsed  into  a  gloomy  reverie,  in  which  thoughts 
of  Xz7y  w^ere  strangely  mingled  with  thoughts  of  the 
d^rk-haired  'Lina,  his  bride  elect,  waiting  for  him  in  New 
York.  The  Dr.  was  more  than  half  tired  of  his  engage- 
ment, and  ere  returning  to  the  city,  he  was  going  to  Ter- 
race Hill  to  have  a  long  talk  w^ith  Anna^  to  tell  her  frank- 
ly of  his  fears  that  'Lina  never  could  be  congenial  to  them, 
and  perhaps  he  would  tell  her  the  whole  of  Lily's  story. 

But, how  should  he  commence  a  tale  which  would 
shock  his  gentle  sister  so  terribly  ?  He  did  not  know, 
and  while  devising  the  best  method,  he  forgot  the  two 
little  feet  which  in  their  bright-colored  hose  were 
stretched  out  until  they  rested  entirely  upon  his  lap, 
while  the  tiny  face  was  nestled  against  Irving  Stanley's 
fatherly  bosom,  where  it  lay  for  hours,  until  Adah,  wak- 
ing from  her  refreshing  slumber,  came  forward  to  relieve 
him. 

"  You  nad  better  not  go  on  this  morning.     You  ought 

to   rest,"   living  said  to   Adah,  when  at   last   the   train 

tcpped  in  Albany.     "  I  have  a  few  moments  to  spare. 

will  see   that  you  are   comfortable.     You  are  going  to 

Snowdon,  I  think  you  said,"  and  taking   Willie    in    his 

arms  he  conducted  Adah  to  the  nearest  hotel. 

There  were  but  a  few  moments  ere  he  must  leave,  and 
standing  by  her  side,  he  said, 


Adah's  journey.  239 

**  The  meeting  with  you  has  been  to  me  a  pleasant  in- 
cident, and  I  shall  not  soon  forget  it.  I  trust  we  may 
meet  again.  There  is  my  card,  and  he  placed  it  in  her 
hand 

At  a  glance  Adah  read  the  name,  knowing  now  who 
had  befriended  her.  It  was  Irving  Stanley,  second  cou&- 
ai  to  Hugh,  and  'Lin a  was  with  his  sister  in  New  York. 
He  was  going  there,  he  might  speak  of  her,  and  if  she 
told  her  name,  her  miserable  story  would  be  known  to 
more  than  it  was  already.  It  was  a  false  pride  which 
kept  Adah  silent  when  she  knew  that  Irving  Stanley 
was  waiting  for  her  to  speak,  and  while  she  was  strug- 
gling to  overcome  it,  Irving's  time  expired  and  he  must 
go  if  he  would  not  be  left.  Taking  her  hand  he  said 
good  bye,  while  she  tried  again  to  thank  him  for  his  great 
kindness  to  her ;  but  she  did  not  tell  her  name,  and  as 
Irving  would  not  ask  it,  he  left  her  without  the  knowl- 
edge, thinking  of  her  often  as  he  went  his  way  to  New 
York,  and  wondering  if  they  would  ever  meet  again. 
****** 

In  the  office  below,  Dr.  Richards,  who  had  purposely 
stopped  for  the  day  in  Albany,  smoked  his  expensive 
cigars,  ordered  oysters  and  wine  sent  to  his  room  —  wrote 
an  explanatory  note  to  'Lina  —  feeling  half  tempted  to 
leave  out  the  "  Dear,"  with  which  he  felt  constrained  to 
preface  it  —  thought  again  of  Lily  —  thought  once  of  the 
strange  woman  and  the  little  boy,  in  whom  Irving  Stan- 
ley had  been  so  interested,  wondered  where  they  were 
going,  and  who  it  was  the  boy  looked  a  little  like  — 
llDnght  of  Anna  in  connection  with  that  boy;  and  then, 
late  in  the  afternoon,  sauntered  down  to  the  Boston  depot, 
lul  took  his  seat  in  the  car  which,  at  about  10  o'clock 
hat  night,  would  deposit  him  at  Snowdon.  There  V\-ere 
no  children  to  disturb  him,  for  Adah,  unconscious  of  hia 
proximity,  was  in  the  rear  car  —  weary,  and  nervous  with 
the  dread  which  her  near  apjiroach  to  Terrace  Hill  inspir 


240  HUGH    WORTHTNGTON. 

ed.  What  ifj  after  all,  Anna  should  not  want  ner  ?  And 
this  was  a  possible  contingency,  notwithstanding  Alice 
had  been  so  sanguine. 

"  I  can  find  employment  somewhere  —  God  will  direct 
me,"  she  whispered  softly,  drawing  her  veil  over  her  tired 
fa<je,  and  thinking,  she  scarcely  knew  why,  of  Irving 
Bt^nley. 

Darkly  the  December  night  closed  in,  and  still  the  train 
kept  on,  until  at  last  Danville  was  reached,  and  she  must 
alight,  as  the  express  did  not  stop  again  until  it  reached 
"Worcester.  With  a  chill  sense  of  loneliness,  and  a  vague, 
confused  wish  for  the  one  cheeiing  voice  which  had  greet- 
ed her  ear  since  leaving  Spring  Bank,  Adah  stood  upon 
the  snow-covered  platform,  holding  Willie  in  her  arms, 
and  pointing  out  her  trunk  to  the  civil  baggage  man,  who, 
in  answer  to  her  inquiries  as  to  the  best  means  of  reach- 
ing Terrace  Hill,  replied,  "  You  can't  go  there  to-night ; 
it  is  too  late.  You'll  have  to  stay  in  the  tavern  kept  right 
over  the  depot,  tiiough  if  you'd  kept  on  the  train  there 
might  have  been  a  chance,  for  I  see  the  young  Dr.  Rich- 
ards aboard  ;  and  as  he  didn't  get  out,  I  guess  he's  coax- 
ed or  hired  the  conductor  to  leave  him  at  Snowdon." 

The  baggage  man  was  right  in  his  conjecture,  for  the 
doctor  had  persuaded  the  polite  conductor,  whom  he  knew 
personally,  to  stop  the  train  at  Snowdon  ;  and  while  Adah, 
shivering  with  cold,  found  her  way  up  the  narrow  stairs 
into  the  rather  comfortless  quarters  where  she  must  spend 
the  night,  the  doctor  waa  kicking  the  snow  from  his  f<iet 
and  talking  to  Jim,  the  coachman  from  Terrace  Hill. 


ADAH    AT    TERR  AC  K    HILL.  241 


CHAPTER  XXYII. 

ADAH    AT    TERRACE    HILL. 

The  next  morning  was  cold  and  frosty,  as  winter  morn- 
ings in  New  England  are  wont  to  be,  and  Adah,  shivered 
involuntarily  as  from  lier  uncurtained  window  she  looked 
out  upon  the  bare  woods  and  tlie  frozen  fields  covered 
with  the  snow  of  yesterday.  Oh,  how  cold  and  dreary  and 
desolate  everything  seemed  on  that  Deceuiber  morning;  and 
only  Adah's  trust  in  Him  who  she  knew  would  not  forsake 
her  kept  her  heart  from  Minting.  Even  this  could  not  keep 
back  her  tears  as  she  watched  the  coming  of  the  eastern 
train,  and  wished  that  she  could  take  it  and  go  back  to 
Spring  Bank.  Wistfully  she  watched  the  train  which 
paused  for  a  single  moment  and  then  sped  on  its  way,  just 
as  there  came  a  knock  at  the  door,  and  the  b'aggage  man 
appeared. 

"  If  you  please,  ma'am,"  he  began,  « the  Terrace  Hill 
cai  riage  is  here  —  brung  over  the  doctor,  w^ho  has  took 
the  train  for  New  York.  I  told  the  driver  how't  you 
wanted  to  go  there.     Shall  I  give  him  your  trunk  ?  " 

Adah  answered  in  the  affirmative,  and  then  hastened 
to  wrap  up  Willie.  She  was  ready  in  a  moment  and 
descended  to  the  room  w^here  Jim,  the  driver,  stood  wait- 
iiig  for  her,  eyeing  her  sharply,  as  if  making  up  his  mind 
with  regard  to  her  position. 

"  A  lady,"  was  his  mental  comment,  and  with  as  much 
politeness  as  if  she  had  been  Madam  Kichards  herself,  he 
opened  the  carriage  door  and  held  Willie  while  she  en- 
tered, asking  if  she  were  comfortable,  and  peering  a  little 
curiously  in  Willie's  face,  which  puzzled  him  somewhat. 
"  A  near  connection,  I  guess,  and  mighty  pretty,  too. 
11 


242  HUGH    WORTHING  TOM". 

rin  most  sorry  she's  come  visiting  just  now,  when  old 
madam  and  the  others  is  so  cross.  Them  old  maids  will 
raise  hob  with  the  boy  —  nice  little  shaver,"  thought  the 
kind  hearted  Jim,  as  he  hurried  up  his  liorses,  looking  back 
occasionally,  and  smiling  at  Willie,  who  had  forgotten  the 
ache  of  yesterday,  and  was  crowing  with  delight  as  the 
carriage  moved  swiftly  on. 

Once,  as  Adah  caught  his  good-humored  eye,  she 
ventured  to  say  to  him, 

"  Has  Miss  Anna  procured  a  waiting-maid  yet  ?  " 

There  was  a  comical  gleam  in  Jim's  eye  now,  for  Adah 
was  not  the  first  applicant  he  had  taken  up  to  Terrace 
Hill,  and  it  was  the  memory  of  madam's  reception  of  them 
which  made  him  laugh.  He  never  suspected  that  this  was 
Adah's  business,  she  was  so  unlike  the  others,  and  he 
answered  frankly, 

"No,  that's  about  played  out.  They  don't  come  as 
thick  as  they  did.  Madam  turned  the  last  o^ne  out 
doors." 

"Turned  her  out  doors  ?  "  and  Adah's  face  was  as  white 
as  the  snow"  rifts  they  were  passing. 

The  driver  felt  that  he  had  gossiped  too  much,  and 
relasped  into  silence,  while  Adah,  in  a  paroxysm  of  terror 
sat  with,  clasped  hands  and  closed  eyes,  unmindful  of 
Willie's  attempt  to  make  her  look  at  the  huge  building, 
just  in  sight.  In  her  dread  of  Mrs.  Richards  she  scarcely 
knew  what  she  was  doing,  and  leaning  forward,  at  last  she 
said,  huskily, 

«  Driver,  driver,  do  yo.i  •:nink  she'll  turn  me  off  too  ?  '* 

"Turn  you  off!"  slu^  in  his  surprise  at  the  sudden  sus- 
picion which  for  the  first  time  darted  across  his  mind,  Jim 
brought  his  horses  to  a  full  stop,  while  he  held  a  parley 
with  the  pale,  frightened  creatui-e,  asking  so  enarerly  if 
Mrs.  Richards  would  turn  her  off.  "  Why  should  she  ? 
You  ain't  going  there  for  that,  be  you  ?  " 

"  Not  to  be  turned  out  of  doors,  no  "  Adah  answered ; 


ADAH    AT    TEKRACE    HILL.  243 

«  but  I  —  I  —  I  want  that  place  so  much.  1  read  Alisa 
Anna's  advertisement ;  but  please  turn  back,  or  let  me 
get  out  and  walk.  I  can't  go  there  now.  Is  Miss  Anna 
like  the  rest  ?  " 

Jim  had  recovered  himself  a  little,  and  though  he  could 
not  have  been  more  astonished  had  Adah  proved  to  bo  a 
W'lsherworaan,  than  he  was  to  find  her  a  waiting-maid,  it 
did  not  abate  his  respect  for  her  one  whit.  She  had  been 
a  lady  sure,  and  as  such  he  should  treat  her.  She  had  al 
so  appealed  to  him  for  sympathy,  and  he  would  not  with 
hold  it. 

"Miss  Anna's  an  angel,"  he  answered.  "If  you  get 
her  ear,  you're  all  right ;  the  plague  is  to  get  it  with  them 
two  she  cats  ready  to  tear  your  eyes  out.  If  I'se  you,  I'd 
ask  to  see  her.  I  wouldn't  tell  my  arrent  either,  till  I  did. 
She's  sick  up  stairs;  but  I'll  see  if  Pamely  can't  manage 
it.  That's  my  woman  —  Pamely  ;  been  mine  for  four 
years,  and  we've  had  two  pair  of  twins,  all  dead ;  so  I  feel 
tender  towards  the  little  ones,"  and  Jim  glanced  at  Wil- 
lie, who  had  succeeded  in  making  Adah  notice  the  house 
standing  out  so  prominently  against  the  winter  sky,  and 
looking  to  the  poor  girl  mcTre  like  a  prison  than  a  home. 

Only  one  part  of  it  seemed  inviting  —  the  two  crimson- 
curtained  windows  opening  upon  a  verandah,  from 
which  a  flight  of  steps  led  down  into  what  must  be  a 
flower-garden. 

"  Miss  Anna's  room,"  the  driver  said,  pointing  towards 
it;  and  Adah  looked  out,  vainly  hoping  for  a  glimpse  of 
the  sweet  face  she  had  in  her  mind  as  Anna's. 

But  Anna  was  sick  in  bed  with  a  headache,  induced  by 
tlie  excitement  of  her  brother's  visit' and  the  harsh  words 
ivhich  passed  between  him  and  his  sisters,  he  telling  them, 
jokingly  at  first,  that  he  was  tired  of  getting  married,  and 
half  resolved  to  give  it  up  ;  while  they,  m  return,  abused 
him  for  fickleness,  taunted  him  with  their  poverty,  and 
sharply  reproached  him  for  his  unwillingness  to  lighten 
their  burden,  by  taking  a  rich  wife  when  he  could  get  ono. 


244  HUGH   WORTHING  TON. 

All  this  John  had  repeated  to  Anna  in  the  dim  twilight 
of  the  morning,  as  he  stood  by  her  bedside  to  bid  hei 
good-bye  ;  and  she,  as  usual,  had  soothed  him  into  quiet, 
Bpeaking  kindly  of  his  bride-elect,  and  saying  she  should 
hii^e  her. 

lie  had  not  told  her  Lily's  story,  as  he  meant  to  do 
There  wiis  no  necessity  for  that,  for  the  matter  was  fixed. 
Lina  should  be  his  wife,  and  he  need  not  trouble  Anna 
further ;  so  he  had  bidden  her  adieu,  and  was  gone  again, 
the  carriage  which  bore  him  away  bringing  back  Adah  and 
her  boy. 

Jim  opened  the  wide  door  for  her,  and  ushered  her  in- 
to a  little  rece])tion-room,  where  the  Misses  Richards  re- 
ceived their  morning  calls.  Drawing  a  deep  arm-chair  to 
the  fire,  Adah  sat  down  before  the  clieerful  blaze,  and 
looked  around  her  with  that  strange  feeling  one  experien- 
ces where  everything  is  new. 

Willie  seemed  perfectly  at  home,  seating  himself  upon 
a  little  stool,  covered  with  some  of  Miss  Eudora's  choicest 
worsted  embroidery,  a  piece  of  work  of  which  she  was 
very  proud,  never  allowing  anything  to  touch  it  lest  the 
roses  should  be  jammed,  or  the  raised  leaves  defaced. 
But  Willie  cared  neither  for  leaves  nor  roses,  nor  yet  for 
Miss  Eudora,  and  drawing  the  stool  to  his  mother's  side, 
he  sat  kicking  his  little  heels  into  a  worn  place  of  the 
carpet,  which  no  child  had  kicked  since  the  doctor's  days 
of  babyhood.  The  tender  threads  were  fast  giving  way 
to  the  vigorous  strokes,  when  two  doors  opposite  each 
other  opened  simultaneously,  and  both  Mrs.  Richards  and 
Eudora  appeared. 

TLey  had  heard  frOm  Jim  that  a  stranger  w^as  there, 
and  as  all  the  cross  questionings  concerning  Adah  elicited 
onl}'  the  assertion,  that  "she  was  a  lady,"  both  had 
made  a  slight  change  in  their  toilet  ere  starting  for  the 
room  which  they  reached  together,  Mrs.  Richards  taking 
in  at  once  the  fit  and  material  of  Adah's  traveling  dresS| 


ADAn    AT    TERRACE    HTLL.  245 

deciding  that  the  collar,  uubuttoned  and  shoved  back  from 
the  throat,  was  real  mink,  as  were  the  wristlets  on  which 
a  pair  of  small  white  hands  were  folded  together.  She 
noticed,  too,  the  tiny  linen  cuffs,  with  the  neat  gold  out- 
ons  which  Alice  had  made  Adah  wear.  Everything  was 
in  keeping,  and  their  visitor  was  a  lady.  This  was  hei 
decision,  while  Eudora  noticed  only  Willie  on  the  bouquet 
which  had  cost  her  so  much  labor,  and  the  alarming  size 
of  that  worn  spot  in  the  carjDet  where  the  little  high 
heeled  slipper  still  was  busy.  Her  first  impulse  was  to 
seize  him  by  the  arm  and  transfer  him  to  some  other  lo- 
cality, but  the  beauty  of  his  fice  diverted  her  attention, 
and  she  involuntarily  drew  a  step  nearer  to  the  child,  fas- 
cinated by  him,  just  as  her  mother  was  attracted  towards 
Adah. 

"Are  you  —  ah,  yes  —  you  are  the  lady  who  Jim  said 
wished  to  see  me,"  the  latter  began,  bowing  politely  to 
Adah,  who  had  not  yet  dared  to  look  up,  and  who  when 
at  last  she  did  raise  her  eyes,  withdrew  them  at  once, 
more  abashed,  more  frightened,  more  bewildered  than  ev 
er,  for  the  fice  she  saw  fully  warranted  her  ideas  of  a 
woman  who  could  turn  a  waiting-maid  from  her  door  just 
because  she  was  a  waiting-maid. 

Something  seemed  choking  Adah  nnd  preventing  her 
utterance,  for  she  did  not  speak  until  Mrs.  Richards  said 
again,  this  time  with  a  little  less  suavity  and  a  little  more 
hauteur  of  manner,  "  Have  1  had  the  honor  of  meeting 
you  before  ?  "  —  then  with  a  low  gasp,  a  mental  petition 
for  help,  Adah  rose  up  nnd  lifting  to  jMrs.  Richards'  cold, 
haughty  face,  her  soft,  bi'own  eyes,  where  tears  were  al* 
most  visible,  answered  f  lintly,  "  We  have  not  met  before 
Excuse  me,  madam,  but  my  business  is  with  Miss  Anna, 
can  I  see  her  please  ?  " 

There  was  something  supplicating  in  the  tone  with 
which  Adah  made  this  request,  and  it  struck  Mrs.  Rich- 
ards unpleasantly,  making  her  answer  haughtily,    "My 


246  HUGH   "WORTHING TON. 

daughter  is  sick.     Slie  does  not  see  visitors,  bi.t  I  will 
take  your  name  and  your  errand." 

Too  much  confused  to  remember  anything  distil  ctly 
Adah  forgot  Jim's  injunction ;  forgot  that  Pamelia  was  to 
arrange  it  somehow;  forgot  everything,  except  that  Mrs 
llichards  was  waiting  for  her  to  speak.  An  ominous 
cough  from  Eudora  decided  her,  and  then  her  reason,  foi 
being  there  came  out.  She  had  seen  Miss  Anna's  adver- 
tisement,  she  wanted  a  place,  and  she  had  come  so  far  to 
get  it ;  had  left  a  haj^py  home  that  she  might  not  be 
dependent  but  earn  her  bread  for  herself  and  her  little 
boy.  Would  they  take  her  message  to  Anna  ?  Would 
they  let  her  stay?  and  Adah's  voice  took  a  tone  of  wild 
entreaty  as  she  marked  the  lowering  of  madam's  brow, 
and  the  perceptible  change  in  hor  manner  when  she  as- 
certained that,  according  to  her  creed,  not  a  lady  but  a 
menial  stood  before  her. 

"You  say  you  left  a  happy  home,"  and  the  thin,  sneering 
lips  of  Eudora  were  pressed  so  tightly  together  that  the 
words  could  scarcely  find  egress.  "May  I  ask,  if  it  was  so 
happy,  why  you  left  it  ?  " 

There  was  a  flush  on  Adah's  cheek  as  she  replied,  "Be- 
cause it  was  a  home  granted  at  first  from  charity.  It  was 
not  mine.  The  people  were  poor,  and  I  would  not  longer 
be  a  "burden  to  them." 

**  And  your  husband  —  where  is  he  ?  " 
'  This  was  the  Imrdest  question  of  all,  and  Adah's  distress 
wae  visible  as  slie  rej)lied.  "Willie's  father  let^  me,  and  I 
don't  know  where  he  is." 

An  incredulous,  provoking  smile  flitted  over  Eudora's 
face. as  she  returned,  "We  hardly  care  to  have  a  deserted 
wife  in  our  family  —  it  might  be  unpleasant." 

"  Yes,"  and  the  old  lady  took  up  the  argument,  "  Anna 
is  well  fe^^oagli  without  a  maid.  I  don't  know  why  she 
put  that  foolish  advertisement  in  the  paper,  in  answer,  I 


ADAH   AT   TEKEACE   HILL.  247 

believe,  to  one  equally  foolish  which  she  saw  about  an 
unfortunate  woman  with  a  child.'  " 

"I  am  that  woman.  I  wrote  that  advertisement  when 
my  heart  was  heavier  than  it  is  now,  and  God  took  care  of 
it.  He  pointed  it  out  to  Miss  Anna.  He  caused  her  to 
answer  it.  He  sent  me  here,  and  you  will  let  me  see  hen 
Think  if  it  were  your  own  daughter,  pleading  thus  with 
some  one." 

"  That  is  impossible.  Neither  my  daughter,  nor  ray 
daughter-in-law,  if  I  had  one,  could  ever  come  to  a  ser- 
vant's position,"  Mrs.  Richards  replied,  not  harshly,  for 
there  was  something  in  Adah's  manner  which  rode  down 
her  resentful  pride;  and  she  might  have  yielded,  but  for 
Eudora,  whose  hands  had  so  ached  to  shake  the  little  child, 
now  innocently  picking  at  a  bud. 

How  she  did  long  to  box  his  ears,  and  while  her  mother 
talked,  she  had  taken  a  step  forward  more  than  once,  but 
stopped  as  often,  held  in  check  by  the  little  face  and  soft 
blue  eyes  turned  so  trustingly  upon  her,  the  pretty  lips 
once  actually  putting  themselves  toward  her,  as  if  expecting 
a  kiss.  Eudora  could  not  harm  that  child  sitting  on  her 
embroidery  as  coolly  as  if  he  had  a  right ;  but  she  could 
prevent  her  mother  from  granting  the  stranger's  request ; 
so  when  she  saw  signs  of  yielding,  she  said,  decidedly, 
"  She  cannot  see  Anna,  mother.  You  know  how  foolish 
she  is,  and  there's  no  telling  what  fancy  she  might  take." 

"Eudora,"  said  Mis.  Richards  in  a  low  tone,  "It  might 
be  well  for  Anna  to  have  a  maid,  and  this  one  is  certainly 
different  from  the  others  who  have  applied." 

"  But  we  ?an't  be  bothered  with  a  child.  It  would 
drive  us  ci  izy." 

"  Yes,  certainly,  I  did  not  think  of  that.  A  child  would 
IK}  very  troublesome,"  Mrs.  Richards  rejoined. 

"  So  madam,  you  see  how  impossible  it  is  for  u^to  keep 
you,  but  you  can  of  course  stay  till  car-time,  when  Jim 
will  carry  you  back  to  the  depot." 


248  HUGH   WOKTIIINGTON. 

She  said  this  so  decidedly  that  all  hope  died  out  uf 
Adah's  heart  and  she  felt  as  if  she  were  going  to  faint  with 
the  crushing  disai)pointnient. 

Just  then  the  door-bell  rang.  It  w^as  the  doctor,  come 
to  visit  Anna,  and  both  Mrs.  Richards  and  Eudora  left 
the  room. 

"Oh,  why  did  I  come  here,  and  where  shall  I  go?* 
Adah  moaned,  as  a  sense  of  her  lonely  condition  cara« 
over  her. 

She  knew  she  would  be  welcome  in  Kentucky,  but  Hugh 
could  not  afford  to  have  her  back,  and  she  had  so  counted 
en  helping  him  w^ith  her  first  wages. 

"Will  my  Father  in  Heaven  direct  me  ?  will  he  tell  me 
what  to  do  ?  "  she  murmured  brokenly,  praying  softly  to 
herself  that  a  way  might  be  opened  for  her,  a  path  which 
she  could  tread.  She  could  not  help  herself.  All  her  de- 
pendence now  w^as  in  her  God,  and  in  trusting  him  she 
found  rest  at  last. 

She  could  not  tell  how  it  was,  but  a  quiet  peace  stole 
over  her,  a  feeling  which  had  no  thought  or  care  for  the 
future,  and  it  had  been  many  nights  since  she  had  slept  as 
sweetly  or  soundly  as  she  did  for  one  half  hour  with  her 
head  upon  the  table  in  that  little  room  at  Terrace  Hill, 
Dr.  Richard's  home  and  Anna's.  She  did  not  see  the 
good-humored  face  which  looked  in  at  her  a  moment,  nor 
hear  the  whispering  in  the  hall ;  neither  did  she  kno\7 
when  Willie  was  coaxed  from  the  room  and  carried  up 
the  stairs  into  the  upper  hall,  where  he  was  purposely  left 
to  himself,  while  Pamelia  wxnt  to  Anna's  room,  w^here 
she  was  to  sit  for  an  hour  or  so,  while  the  ladies  had  their 
unch.  Anna's  head  was  better;  the  paroxysms  of  pain 
were  less  frequent  than  in  the  morning,  and  she  lay  upon 
he-  pillow,  so  nearly  asleep  that  she  did  not  hear  that 
unusual  sound  for  Terrace  Hill,  the  patter  of  little  feet  in 
the  hair  without.  Tired  of  staying  by  himself,  and  spy- 
iDg  the  open  door,  Willie  hastened  toward  it,  pausing  a 


ADAH    AT    TERRACE    HILL. 


249 


moment  on  the  threshold  as  if  to  reconnoiter.  Sot^ething 
in  Anna's  attitude,  as  she  lay  with  her  long  fair  hair  falling 
over  the  pillow,  must  have  reminded  him  of  Alice,  for 
with  a  cry  of  delight,  he  ran  forward,  and  patting  the 
uliite  cheek  with  his  soft  baby  hand,  lisped  out  the  word 
**  Am-tee,  arn-tee,"  making  Anna  start  suddenly  and  gaze 
at  l.im  in  wondering  surprise. 

"Who  is  he?"  she  said,  drawing  him  to  her  at  once 
and  pressing  a  kiss  upon  his  rosy  face. 

Pamelia  told  her  Avhat  she  knew  of  the  stranger  wait- 
ing in  the  reception  room,  adding  in  conclusion,  "  I  believe 
they  said  you  did  not  want  her,  and  Jim  is  to  take  her  to 
the  depot  when  it's  time.  She's  very  young  and  pretty, 
and  looks  so  sorry,  Jim  told  me." 

"  Said  I  did  not  want  her !  How  did  they  know  ?  "  and 
something  of  the  Richards'  spirit  flashed  from  Anna's 
eyes.  "  The  child  is  so  beautiful,  and  he  called  me,  Aimtie, 
too  !  He  must  have  an  auntie  somewhere.  Little  dear ! 
how  she  must  love  him  !  Lift  him  up,  Pamelia !  " 

The  woman  obeyed,  and  Willie  was  soon  nestled  close 
to  Anna,  who  kissed  him  again,  smoothed  his  curls,  pinch- 
ed his  cheek,  squeezed  his  soft  hands,  and  then  asked 
whom  he  so  much  resembled. 

Pamelia  could  not  tell.  The  likeness  had  puzzled  her, 
but  she  never  thought  of  finding  it  in  her  young  mistress, 

fiice. 

« I  must  see  his  mother,"  Anna  said,  as  she  contmucd 
10  caress  and  fondle  him.  Perhaps  I  should  like  her.  At 
al/  events  I  will  hear  what  she  has  to  say.  Show  her  up, 
•Amelia;  but  first  smooth    my  hair  a  little   and  arrange 

y  pillows,"  she  added,  feeling  intuitively  that  the  stran- 
^fi  was  not  like  the  others  who  ha;l  come  to  her  on  simi- 
lar  errands. 

Pamelia  complied  with  her  request,  brushing  back  thd 
long,  loose  locks,  and  making  the  bed  more  smooth  and 
tidy  in  its  appearance ;  then  leaving  Willie  with  Anna, 
11* 


250  HUGU    WORTIIINGTON. 

she  repaired  to  the  reception  room,  and  rousing  the  sleep* 
ing  Adah,  said  to  her  hurriedly, 

"  Please,  miss,  come  quick ;  Miss  Anna   wants  to  see 
you.     The  little  boy  is  up  there  with  her." 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

ANNA    AND    ADAH. 

For  a  moment  Anna  was  inclined  to  think  that  Pamelia 
had  made  a  mistake  and  brought  her  the  wrong  individual, 
but  Willie  set  her  right  by  patting  her  cheek  again,  while 
he  called  out,  "  Mamma,  arntee." 

The  look  of  interest  which  Anna  cast  upon  him  embol- 
dened Adah  to  say, 

"  Excuse  him,  Miss  Richards ;  he  must  have  mistaken 
you  for  a  dear  friend  at  home,  whom  he  calls  Auntie,  I'll 
take  him  down  ;  he  troubles  you." 

"  No,  no,  please  not,"  and  Anna  passed  her  arm  around 
him.  "I  love  children  so  much.  I  ought  to  have  been  a 
W'ife  and  mother,  my  brother  says,  instead  of  a  useless  old- 
maid." 

Adah  was  too  much  a  stranger  to  disclaim  against  An- 
na's calling  herself  old,  so  she  paid  no  attention  to  there- 
mark,  but  plunged  at  once  into  the  matter  which  had 
Drought  her  there.  Presuming  they  would  rath?r  be  alone, 
l*amelia  had  purposely  left  the  room,  meeting  in  the  low- 
er hall  with  lady  Richards,  who,  in  much  affright,  was 
gcjrching  for  the  recent  occupants  of  the  reception  room. 
She  had  ordered  Dixson  to  carry  ^nem  some  lunch,  and 
Dixson  had  returned  with  the  news  that  there  was  no 
woman  or  child  to  be  seen.  Where  were  they  then? 
Had  they  decamped,  taking  with  them  anything  valuable 
which  chanced  to  be  in  theii'  way  ?     Of  course  they  nad| 


ANNA    AND    4DAH,  251 

AnflEudora  in  the  parlor,  and  Asenath  in  the  dining-room, 
and  Mrs.  Richards  in  the  liall,  were  hunting  for  missing 
articles,  when  Pamelia  quieted  themby  saying,  "The  lady 
was  in  Miss  Anna's  room." 

At  any  other  time  Mrs.  Richards  would  have  corrected 
xer  domestic  fbr  calling  a  servant  a  lady,  but  she  did  not 
sflind  it  now  in  her  surprise. 

"How  came  she  there  ?  "  she  said,  angrily,  while  Pamelia 
feplied,  evasively, 

"  The  little  boy  got  up  stairs,  and,  as  children  will^ 
walked  right  into  Miss  Anna's  room.  She  was  taken 
tiith  him  at  once,  and  asked  who  he  was.  I  told  her  and 
she  sent  for  the  lady.     That's  how  it  happened." 

It  could  not  now  be  helped,  and  Mrs.  Richards  hurried 
up  to  Anna's  chamber,  where  Willie  still  was  perched  by 
Anna's  pillow,  playing  with  the  rings  upon  her  fingers, 
while  Adah,  with  her  bonnet  in  her  lap,  sat  a  little  apart, 
traces  of  tears  and  agitation  upon  her  cheeks,  but  a  look 
of  happiness  in  the  eyes  fixed  so  wistfully  on  Anna's  fair, 
sweet  face. 

"  Flease,  mother,"  said  Anna,  motioning  her  away, "leave 
us  aloi\e  awhile.  Shut  the  door,  and  see  that  no  one  comes 
near.'' 

Mrs.  Hichards  obeyed,  and  Anna,  waiting  until  she  was 
out  of  Liaring,  resumed  the  conversation  just  where  it  had 
been  inteirupted. 

"And  so  you  are  the  one  who  wrote  that  advertisement 
which  I  re.\(I.  Let  me  see  —  the  very  night  my  brother 
came  home  fi  om  Europe.  I  remember  he  laughed  because 
I  was  so  iuterc\.ted,  and  he  accidentally  tore  off  the  name 
to  light  his  cigai,  so  I  forgot  it  entirely.  What  shall  I  call 
you,  please  ?  " 

Adah  was  silfeAl  a  nioment  and  then  she  answered, 
**  Adah,  Adah  Hasiingo,  but  please  do  not  ask  where  I 
came  fi-om  now,  I  wii2  icU  you  of  the  past,  though  I  did 
not  even  mean  to  do  tha.' ;  but  something  about  you  makes 


*Zb'2  Huc;u  woiaiiiNGTON. 

me  know  I  Ccan  trust  you."  And  then,  amid  a  shower  of 
tears,  in  wliich  Anna's,  too,  were  mingled,  Adah  told  her 
sad  story —  told  of  the  mock  marriage,  the  cruel  desertion, 
of  Willie's  birth,' her  utter  wretchedness,  her  attempt  at 
suicide,  her  final  trust  in  God,  her  going  at  last  to  one  who 
gave  her  a  home,  even  when  he  could  not  afford  it  ;  of  lici' 
accidentally  finding  Anna's  advertisement,  and  its  result, 
-Ko  names  were  given,  not  even  that  of  New  Vork.  It 
wiis  merely  the  city  and  tlie  countiy,  and  forgetful  of  the 
medium  through  which  she  first  heard  of  Adah,  Anna 
fancied  Boston  to  have  been  the  scene  of  her  trials. 

"  But  why  do  you  wish  to  conceal  your  recent  home  ?  " 
she  asked,  after  Adah  had  finished.    "  Is  there  any  reason  ?" 

For  a  moment  Adali  was  tempted  to  tell  the  whole,  but 
when  she  remembered  how  on  the  day  of  her  departure 
from  Spring  Bank  Mrs.  Worthington  had  asked  her  not 
to  say  any  thing  dis]>arnging  of  'Lina,  and  admitted  that 
it  would  be  a  great  relief  if  the  Richards  laniily  should  not 
know  for  the  present  at  least  that  she  came  from  Spring 
Bank,  she  replied, 

"At  first  there  was  none  in  particular,  save  a  fancy  I 
had,  but  there  came  one  afterwards  —  the  request  of  one 
who  had  been  kind  to  me  as  a  dear  mother.  Is  it  wrong 
not  to  tell  the  whole  ?  " 

"  I  think  not.  You  have  dealt  honestly  with  me  so  fiir, 
and  I  am  sure  I  can  trust  you." 

She  meant  to  keep  her  then.     She  was  not  going  to 

send  her  away,  and  Adah's  face  lighted  up  with  a  joy 

which   made  it  so  beautiful  that  Anna  gazed   at  her  in 

Burprise,  marveling  that  any  heart  could   be  so  hard  as  to 

esert  that  gentle  girl. 

"  Oh,  may  I  stay  ?  "  Adah  asked  eairerly. 

**  Of  course  you  may.  Did  you  think  I  would  turn  you 
away?"  was  Anna's  reply;  and  laying  her  head  upon  tlie 
white  counterpane  of  the  bed,  Adah  cried  passionately; 
not  a  wild,  bitter  cry,  but  a  delicious  kind  of  cry  wlicb 


ANNA    AND    ADAH.  25t> 


did  her  good,  even  though  her  whole  frame  qniveie  I  and 
her  low,  choking  sobs  fell  distinctly  on  Anna's  ear. 

«  Poor  child  ! "  the  latter  said,  laying  her  soft  h?nd  on 
the  bowed  head.  "You  have  sutfered  much,  but  vith  me 
you  shall  find  rest.  I  want  you  for  a  companio-j,  rather 
than  a  maid.  You  are  better  suited  for  it,  and  we  shall 
be  very  happy  together,  I  am  sure,  though  I  am  ro  much 
an  invalid.  I,  too,  have  had  my  heart  trouble;  not  liko 
youi-s,  but  heavy  enough  to  make  me  wish  I  could  die. 
I  was  young  and  wayward  then.  I  had  not  learned 
patience  where  alone  it  is  to  be  found." 

It  was  seldom  that  Anna  alluded  to  herself  in  this  Avay, 
and  to  do  so  to  a  stranger  was  utterly  foreign  to  the 
Richards'  nature.  But  Anna  could  not  help  it.  There 
was  something  about  Adah  which  interested  h?r  greatly. 
She  knew  she  was  above  a  waiting  maid's  pos'tion,  that 
in  point  of  refinement  and  cultivation  she  was  filly  equal 
to  herself;  and  when  she  decided  to  keep  her,  it  was  with 
the  determination  that  she  should  be  made  to  feel  the 
degradation  of  her  po3iti'on  as  little  as  possible.  She 
could  not  wholly  shield  her  from  her  mother's  ani  sisters' 
pride,  but  she  would  do  what  she  could,  and  perhaps 
some  day  the  recreant  lover  would  be  found  and  brought 
back  to  a  sense  of  his  duty. 

Blessed  Anna  Richards,  — the  world  has  few  like  her, 
80  crentle,  so  kind,  so  lovely,  and  as  no  one  could  long  be 
with  her  and  not  feel  her  influence,  so  Adah  grew  calm 
at  last,  and  at  Anna's  request  laid  aside  her  cloak  and  ^al 
in  which  she  had  been  sitting. 

*'  Touch  that  bell,  if  you  please,  and  ring  Pamelia  up,* 
Anna  said,  *'  There's  a  little  room  adjoining  this,  opening 
into  the  hall,  and  also  in  here  — that's  the  door,  with  the 
bureau  against  it.  I  mean  to  give  you  that.  You  will  be 
80  near  me,  and  so  retired,  too,  when  you  like.  John  — 
that's  my  brother  —  occupied  it  wljcn  a  boy,  but  as  ho 
gi-ew  larger  he  said  it  was  too  small.  Still,  I  think  it  wiL' 
answer  nicely  for  you." 


254  HUGH    WORTHINGTON. 

Obedient  to  the  ring,  Pamelia  came,  manifesting  no  Bur 
prise  when  told  by  Anna  to  mo^e  the  dressing-bureau 
back  to  the  corner  where  it  used  to  stand,  to  unlock  the 
door  and  see  if  the  little  room  was  in  order.  "I  know  it 
is,"  she  said,  "I  put  it  so  this  morning.  There's  a  fire,  too 
Miss  Anna  has  forgot  that  Dr.  John  slept  here  last  night, 
because  it  did  not  take  so  long  to  warm  up  as  his  big 
chamber." 

"I  do  remember  now,"  Anna  replied.  *' Mrs.  Hastings 
can  go  in  at  once.  She  must  be  tired  ;  and,  Pamelia,  send 
lunch  to  her  room,  and  tell  your  husband  to  bring  up  her 
trunk." 

Again  Pamelia  bowed  and  departed  to  do  her  young 
mistress'  bidding,  while  Adah  entered  the  pleasant  room 
where  Dr.  Richards  had  slept  the  previous  night,  leaving 
behind  him,  as  he  always  did,  an  odor  of  cigars.  Adah 
detected  the  perfume,  but  it  was  not  disagreeable  —  on 
the  contrary,  it  reminded  her  of  George,  and  for  a  brief 
moment  there  stole  over  her  a  feeling  as  if  in  some  way 
she  were  brought  very  near  to  him  by  being  in  Dr.  Rich- 
ards' room !  What  a  cosy  place  it  was,  and  how  she 
wished  the  people  at  Spring  Bank  could  know  all  about 
it.  How  thankful  they  would  be,  and  how  thankful  she 
was  for  this  resting-place  in  the  j)rotection  of  sweet  Anna 
Richards.  It  was  better  than  she  liad  ever  dared  to  hope 
for,  and  sinking  down  by  the  snowy-covered  bed,  she 
murmured  inaudibly  the  prayer  of  thanksgiving  to  Him 
who  had  led  her  to  Terrace  Hill. 

There  were  dark  frowns  on  the  faces  of  the  mother  and 
elder  sisters  when  they  learned  of  Anna's  decision  with 
regard  to  Adah,  but  Anna's  income,  received  from  tho 
Aunt  for  whom  she  was  named,  gave  her  a  right  to  act  as 
she  pleased,  so  they  contented  themselves  with  a  few  ill 
natured  remarks  concerning  her  foolishness,  and  the  airs 
the  waiting  maid  put  on.  Adah,  or  Hastings  as  they  call- 
ed her,  was  not  their  idea  of  a  waiting,  maid,  and  they 


ANNA    AND    ADAH.  255 

watched  her  curiously  whenever  she  came  in  their  sight, 
wondering  at  her  cultivated  manners  and  how  Anna  would 
^ver  manage  one  apparently  so  much  her  equal.  Anna 
wondered  so  too,  for  it  was  an  awkward  business,  requir 
iug  a  menial's  service  of  that  lady-like  creature,  with  lam 
guage  so  pure  and  manner  so  refined,  and  she  would  hav 
been  exceedingly  perplexed  had  not  Adah's  good  senst 
come  to  the  rescue,  prompting  her  to  do  things  unasked, 
and  to  do  them  in  such  a  way  that  Anna  was  at  once  re- 
lieved from  all  embarrassment,  and  felt  that  she  had  found 
a  treasure  indeed.  She  did  not  join  the  family  in  the  eve- 
ning, but  kept  her  room  instead,  talkhig  with  Adah,  and 
caressing  and  playing  with  little  Willie,  who  persisted  in 
calUng  her  "  Arntee,"  in  spite  of  all  Adah  could  say. 

"  Never  mind,"  Anna  answered,  laughingly ;  "  I  rather 
like  to  hear  him.  No  one  has  ever  called  me  by  that 
name,  and  maybe  never  will,  though  my  brother  is  engaged 
to  be  married  in  the  spring.  I  have  a  picture  of  his  be- 
throthed  there  on  my  bureau.     AYould  you  like  to  see 

it?" 

Adah  nodded,  and  was  soon  gazing  on  the  dark,  haugh 
ty  face  she  knew  so  well,  and  which  even  from  the  casing, 
seemed  to  smile  disdainfully,  upon  her,  just  as  the  origi- 
nal had  often  done.  There  w\as  Ellen  Tiffton's  bracelet  up- 
on the  rounded  arm,  Ellen's  chain  upon  the  bare  neck, 
while  twined  among  the  braids  of  her  hair  was  something 
which  looked  like  a  bandeau  of  pearls,  and  which  had 
been  borrowed  for  the  occasion  of  Mrs.  Ellsworth,  Irving's 
Bister. 

«  What  do  you  think  of  her  ?  "  Anna  asked,  wondering 
a  little  at  the  expression  of  Adah's  face. 

Adah  must  say  something,  and  she  replied. 

« I  dare  say  people  think  her  pretty." 

"  Yes  ;  but  what  do  you  think  ?  I  asked  your  opinion," 
persisted  Anna,  and  thus  beset  Adah  replied  at  last, 

« I  think  her  too  showily  dressed  for  a  picture.  She  dis- 
plays  too  much  jewelry." 


256  HUGH    WOKTIIINGTON. 

Feeling  a  liule  piqued  that  a  stranger  should  have  seizerl 
upon  the  very  point  \vhich  had  seriously  annoyed  herself 
Anna  began  to  defend  her  future  sister,  never  dreaming 
how  much  more  than  herself  Adah  knew  of  'Lina  Worth- 
ington. 

It  seemed  to  Adah  like  a  miserable  deceit,  sitting  there 
and  listening  while  Anna  talked  of  'Lina,  and  she  was 
glad  when  at  last  she  showed  signs  of  weariness,  and  ex- 
pressed a  desire  to  retire  for  the  night. 

"  Would  you  mind  reading  to  me  from  the  Bible?" 
Anna  asked,  as  Adah  was  about  to  leave  her. 

"  Oh,  no,  I'd  like  it  so  much,"  and  bringing  her  own 
little  Bible  to  Anna's  bedside,  Adah  read  her  flivorito 
chapter,  the  one  which  had  comforted  her  so  often  when 
life  was  at  its  darkest. 

And  Anna,  listening  to  the  sweet,  silvery  tones  reading, 
"  Let  not  your  heart  be  troubled,"  felt  her  own  sorrow 
grow  less,  while  there  went  silently  up  aprayer  of  thanks- 
giving to  heaven  who  had  sent  her  such  a  comfort  as  Adah 
Hastings. 

The  chapter  was  ended,  the  little  Testament  closed,  and 
then  for  a  moment  Adah  sat  as  if  waiting  for  Anna  to 
speak.  But  Anna  continued  silent,  her  thoughts  intent 
upon  those  mansions  her  elder  brother  had  gone  home  be- 
fore her  to  prepare. 

"  If  you  please,"  Adah  said  timidly,  bending  over  the 
sweet  face  resting  on  the  pillow,  "  if  you  please,  may  I 
say  the  Lord's  Prayer  here  with  you  ?  I  shall  sleep  bet- 
ter for  it.     I  used  to  say  it  with  — —  " 

She  stopped  suddenly  ere  the  loved  name  of  Alice  had 
assed  her  lips,  but  Anna  was  kindly  unconscious  of  the 
Imost  mistake,  and  only  answered  by  grasping  Adah's 
hand,  and  whispering  to  her, 

"Yes,  say  it,  do." 

Then  Adah  knelt  beside  her,  and  Anna's  fair  hand  rent- 
ed, as  if  in  blessing,  on  her  head,  as  they  said  together, 
«  Our  Father." 


ANNA    AND    ADAH.  257 

It  was  a  lovely  sight,  those  two  girls  as  it  were,  the 
one  mistress,  the  other  the  maid,  yet  both  forgetting  the 
inequality  in  that  expression  of  a  common  faith  which 
made  them  truly  equals ;  and  Eudora,  awed  at  the  sight, 
paused  a  moment  on  the  threshold,  and  then  moved  si 
]ently  away,  lest  they  should  know  she  had  been  there. 

At  first  Adah's  position  at  Terrace  Hill  was  a  very  tiy- 
liig  one,  but  Anna's  unfailing  kindness  and  thoughtfulnesa 
shielded  her  from  much  that  was  unpleasant,  while  the 
fact  that  Willie  was  finding  favor  in  the  eyes  of  those  who 
had  considered  him  an  intruder,  helped  to  make  her  bur- 
den easy. 

Accustomed  to  the  free  range  of  Spring  Bank,  Willie 
asserted  the  same  right  at  Terrace  Hill,  going  where  he 
pleased,  and  putting  himself  so  often  in  Mrs.  Richards 
way,  that  she  began  at  last  to  notice  him,  and  if  no  one 
was  near,  to  caress  the  handsome  boy.  Asenath  and  Eu- 
dora held  out  longer,  but  even  they  were  not  proof  against 
Willie's  winning  ways.  His  innocent  prattle,  and  the 
patter  of  his  little  feet,  heard  from  day  dawn  till  night, 
thawed  the  ice  from  their  hearts,  until  Asenath,  the  soft- 
er of  the  two,  was  once  caught  by  Adah  in  the  very  un- 
dignified act  of  playing  she  was  coach  horse,  while  Wil- 
lie's whip,  given  to  him  by  Anna,  was  snapped  in  close 
proximity  to  her  ears;  Eudora,  too,  no  longer  hid  her 
worsted  stool,  and  as  the  weeks  went  on,  there  gradually 
came  to  be  prints  of  little,  soiled,  dirty  fingers  —  on 
the  sideboard  in  the  dining-room,  on  the  hat-stand  in 
the  hall,  on  the  table  in  the  parlor,  and  even  on  the 
dressing  bureau  in  Madam e's  bed  chamber,  where  the 
busy,  active  child  had  forced  an  entrance. 

It  v^'as  some  weeks  ere  Adah  wrote  to  Alice  Johnson, 
and  when  at  last  she  did,  she  said  of  Terrace  Hill, 

"  I  am  happier  here  than  I  at  first  supposed  it  possible. 
The  older  ladies  were  so  proud,  that  it  made  me  very 
"Wretched,  in  spite  of  sweet  Anna's  kindness.    But  th'  m 


258  HUGH   WORTHINGTON. 

has  come  a  perceptible  change,  and  they  now  tieat  me 
civilly,  if  nothing  more,  while  I  do  believe  they  are  fond 
of  Willie,  and  would  miss  him  if  he  were  gone." 

Adah  was  right  in  this  conjecture  ;  for  had  it  now  boon 
optional  with  the  Misses  Richards  whether  Willie  should 
go  or  stay,  they  would  have  kept  him  there  from  choico 
»o  cheery  and  pleasant  he  made  the  house.  Adah  waa 
still  too  pretty,  too  stylish,  to  suit  their  ideas  of  a  ser- 
vant; but  when  they  found  she  did  not  presume  at 
all  on  her  good  looks,  but  meekly  kept  her  place,  they 
dropped  the  haughty  manner  they  had  at  first  assumed, 
and  treated  her  with  civility  if  not  with  kindness. 

With  Anna  it  was  different.  Won  by  Adah's  gentle- 
ness, and  purity,  she  came  at  last  to  love  her  almost  as 
much  as  if  she  had  been  a  younger  sister.  Adah  was 
not  a  servant  to  her,  but  a  companion,  a  friend,  with 
whom  she  daily  held  familiar  converse,  learning  from  her 
much  that  was  good,  and  prizing  her  more  and  more  as 
the  winter  weeks  went  swiftly  by. 

She  had  also  grown  very  confidential,  telling  Adah 
much  of  her  past  life,  talking  freely  of  Charlie  Millbrook 
whose  wife  she  had  heard  was  dead,  and  for  whose  return 
to  America  she  was  hoping.  She  was  talking  of  him  one 
afternoon  and  blushing  like  a  girl  as  Adah  playfully  sug- 
gested what  might  possibly  ensue  from  his  coming  home, 
when  her  mother  came  in  evidently  annoyed  and  dis- 
turbed at  something. 

"  I  have  a  letter  from  John,"  she  said.  "  They  are  to  be 
married  the — ^day  of  April,  which  leaves  us  only  five 
weeks  m.')re,  as  they  will  start  at  once  for  Terrace  Hill. 
"  I  am  so  bothered.  I  want  to  see  you  alone,"  and  she 
cast  a  furtive  glance  at  Adah,  w^ho  left  the  rr)om,  while 
madam  plunged  at  once  into  the  matter  agitating  her  so 
much. 

She  had  fully  intended  going  to  Kentucky  with  her 
son.     It  would   be  a  good    opportunity  for  seeing  the 


ANNA    AND    ADAH. 


259 


country,  besides  showing  proper  respect  to  her  danghter- 
in-law,  but  'Lina  had  objected,  not  in  words,  but  in  man- 
ner, objected,  and  the  doctor  had  written,  saying  she 
must  not  go,  at  the  same  time  urging  upon  her  the  ne- 
cessity of  having  everything  in  perfect  order,  and  in  as 
good  style  as  possible  for  his  bride.  ^ 

"  I  have  not  the  money  myself,"  he  wrote,  "  and  THJ 
bave  to  get  trusted  for  my  wedding  suit,  so  you  must 
appeal  to  Anna's  good  nature  for  the  wherewithal  with 
which  to  fix  the  rooms.  It's  downright  mean,  I  know, 
but  she's  the  only  one  of  the  firm  who  has  money.  Do, 
pray,  re-paper  them ;  that  chocolate  color  is  enough  to 
give  one  the  blues;  and  get  a  carpet  too,  something  lively 
and  cheerful.  She  may  stay  with  you  longer  than  you 
anticipate.  It  is  too  expensive  living  here  as  she  would 
expect  to  live.  Nothing  but  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel  would 
suit  her,  and  I  cannot  ask  her  for  funds  at  once.  I'd  rath- 
er come  to  it  gradually." 

And  this  it  w^as  which  so  disturbed  Mrs.  Richards' 
peace  of  mind.  She  could  not  go  to  Kentucky,  and  she 
might  as  well  have  saved  the  money  she  had  expended 
in  getting  her  black  silk  velvet  dress  fixed  for  the  occasion, 
while  worst  of  all  she  must  liave  John's  wife  there  for 
months,  perhaps,  whether  she  liked  it  or  not,  and  she  must 
also  fit  up  the  rooms  wath  paper  and  paint  and  carpets, 
notwithstanding  that  she'd  nothing  to  do  it  w^ith,  unless 
Anna  generously  gave  the  necessary  sum  from  her  own 
yearly  income.  This  Anna  promised  to  do,  suggesting 
that  Adah  should  make  the  carpet,  as  that  would  save  a 

little. 

"I  wish,  mother,"  she  added,  "that  you  would  let  hor 
arrange  the  rooms  altogether.  She  has  exquisite  taste, 
besides  the  faculty  of  making  the  most  of  things  "  Mrs. 
Richards,  too,  had  confidence  in  Adah's  taste,  and  so  it 
was  finally  arranged  that  Adah  should  superintend  the 
bridal  rooms,  subject  of  course  to  the  dictation  of  Madame 
and  her  daughters. 


260  HUGH    WOETHINGTOM' 

At  fii-st  EiKlora  and  Asenath  demurred,  but  when  tlicy 
saw  how  competent  Adah  was,  and  how  modest  withal  in 
giving  her  opinions,  they  yiehled  the  point,  so  far  as  ac- 
tual overseeing  was  concerned,  contenting  themselves  with 
uggestions  which  Adah  followed  or  not  just  as  she 
iked. 

Frequently  doubts  crossed  her  mind  as  to  tne  future 
Khon  it  might  be  known  that  she  came  from  Spring  Bank, 
and  knew  the  expected  bride.  Would  she  not  be  blamed 
as  a  party  in  the  deception  ?  Did  God  think  it  right  for 
her  to  keep  silent  concerning  the  past  ?  Ought  she  not 
to  tell  Anna  frankly  that  she  knew  her  brother's  betroth- 
ed ?  She  did  not  know,  and  the  harassing  anxiety  wore 
upon  her  faster  than  all  the  work  she  had  to  do. 

The  Dr.  was  expected  home  for  a  day  before  starting 
for  Kentucky,  and  Adah  frequently  caught  herself  won- 
dering if  she  should  see  him.  She  presumed  she  should 
not  unless  it  were  by  accident,  neither  did  she  care  par- 
ticularly if  she  did  not,  and  so  on  the  morning  of  his  ex- 
pected arrival,  when  the  other  members  of  the  household 
were  anxious  and  watchful,  she  alone  was  quiet  and  self- 
possessed,  doing  her  duties  as  usual,  and  feeling  no  pre- 
sentiment of  the  shock  awaiting  her.  She  was  in  the  dining 
room  when  the  door  bell  rang,  and  she  heard  the  tramp  of 
horses'  foet  as  Jim  drove  round  to  the  stable.  The  doctor 
had  come  and  she  must  go,  but  Avhere  was  Willie?  He 
was  with  her  a  moment  ago,  but  she  could  not  see  him 
now.  She  hoped  he  was  not  in  the  parlor,  for  she  knew 
it  would  annoy  Eudora,  who  had  more  than  once  Raid 
lomething  in  lier  hearing  about  that  "child  forever  undei 
%ot." 

"Willie,  Willie,"  she  called,  in  a  tremor  of  distress,  as 
she  heard  his  little  feet  pattering  through  the  hall,  togeth- 
er with  the  ru.*-])  of  other  feet  as  madame,  Asenath  and 
Eudora,  all  came  down  together  to  admit  their  son  and 
brother. 


THE    RESULT.  261 

But  Willie  paid  no  heed,  and  as  Eudora  had  said,  waa 
c  rectly  under  foot,  when  she  unlocked  the  door;  his 
the  first  form  distinctly  seen,  his  the  first  fiice  which  met 
the  doctor's  view,  and  his  fearless  baby  laugh  the  first 
«ouiid  which  welcomed  the  doctor  home  ! 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

THE    RESULT. 


It  was  not  a  disagreeable  picture  —  that  chubby, 
ros}-cheeked  little  boy,  his  white  fat  shoulders  peeping 
out  from  the  dress  of  crimson  and  black,  his  fair  curls 
blowing  around  his  forehead,  and  his  eyes  raised  curiously 
to  the  doctor's  face.  Willie  had  not  expected  to  see  a 
stranger,  and  at  sight  of  the  tall  figure,  niuffied  above  the 
chin,  he  drew  back  timidly  and  half  hid  himself  behind 
Mrs.  Richards,  whom  he  intuitively  knew  to  be  the  wai-mest 
ally  he  had  among  the  three  ladies  gathered  in  the  hall. 

As  the  doctor  had  said  to  Irving  Stanley  he  disliked 
children,  but  he  could  not  help  noticinG:  Willie,  and  after 
the  first  greetings  were  over  he  asked,  "  Whom  have  we 
here?  whose  child  is  this?" 

Eudora  and  Asenath  tried  to  frown,  but  the  expression 
of  their  faces  softened  as  they  glanced  at  Willie,  who  had 
followed  them  into  the  parlor,  and  who,  with  one  little 
foot  thrown  forward,  and  his  fat  hands  pressed  together, 
stood  upon  the  hearth  rug,  gazing  at  the  doctor  with  that 
strange  look  which  had  so  often  puzzled,  bewildered,  and 
fascinated  the  entire  Richards  family. 

"  Anna  wrote  yoii  that  the  maid  she  so  much  wanted 
had  come  to  her  at  last  —  a  very  lady-like  person,  who 
has  evidently  seen  better  days,  and  this  is  her  boy,  Willie, 


262  HUGn    WORTniNGTOlfl". 

He  is  such  a  queer  little  fellow,  that  we  allow  him   more 
liberties  than  we  ought." 

It  was  Mrs.  Richards  who  volunteered  this  explanation, 
while  her  son  stood  looking  down  at  Willie,  wonder- 
ing what  it  was  about  the  child  which  seemed  familiar. 
Anna  had  mentioned  Mrs.  Hastings  in  her  letter-- had 
eaid  how  much  she  liked  her,  had  spoken  of  her  bor,  but 
the  Hastings  had  been  badly  blotted,  and  as  the  Doctor 
was  too  much  absorbed  in  his  own  affairs  to  care  for  An- 
na's waiting  maid,  he  had  not  thought  of  her  since,  not- 
withstanding that  'Lina  had  tried  many  times  to  make 
him  speak  of  Anna's  maid,  so  as  to  calculate  her  own  safe- 
ty. 

"  So  you've  taken  to  petting  a  servant's  child,  for  want 
of  something  better,"  he  said  in  answer  to  Mrs.  Richards' 
rather  long  speech  concerning  Willie. 

Ere  Mrs.  Richards  could  reply  Anna  made  her  appear- 
ance, and  the  fastidious  Doctor  forgot  the  little  fellowj 
who  was  coaxed  from  the  room  by  Pamelia,  and  taken  to 
his  mother. 

The  doctor  was  not  in  as  good  humor  as  men  are  sup- 
posed to  be  on  the  eve  of  their  marriage  with  heiresses. 
He  had  offered  to  accompany  'Lina  to  Kentucky,  but  she 
had  peremptorily  declined  his  escort,  and  rather,  as  it  seem- 
ed to  him,  thrust  herself  upon  a  gentleman  and  lady  who 
were  returning  to  Louisville.  Several  little  things  which 
she  had  done  at  the  last  had  displeased  him,  as  showing 
less  refinement  than  he  had  given  her  credit  for  possess- 
ing, besides  which  he  could  not  conceal  from  himself  th« 
uspicion  that  Mrs.  Ellsworth  was  heartily  glad  to  be  rid  ot 
er,  and  had  perhaps  talked  of  going  to  Europe  with  her  lit/ 
le  girl  as  a  ruse,  and  that  she  was  not  a  favorite  with 
any  one  of  his  particular  friends.  Still  he  meant  to  niE-r- 
ry  her,  and  after  the  late  dinner  was  over  he  went  with 
Anna  to  inspect  the  rooms  which  Adah  had  fitted  for  hia 
bride.     They  were  very  pleasant,  and  he  could  find  fault 


THE    RESTTLT.  263 

with  nothing.  The  carpet,  the  curtains,  the  new  light 
furniture,  the  arm  chair  by  the  window  where  'Lina  waa 
expected  to  sit,  the  fanciful  work  basket  standing  near, 
and  his  chair  not  far  away,  all  were  in  perfect  taste,  but 
BtiU  there  was  a  load  upon  his  heart,  making  him-  so  silent 
and  moody,  that  Anna  forebore  talking  to  him  much  and 
did  not  even  mention  Adah,  though  she  had  meant  to  tell 
him  just  what  a  treasure  she  was  and  perhaps  have  him 
see  her  too.  But  the  doctor  was  in  no  frame  of  mind  to 
talk  of  strangers,  for  thoughts  of  Lily  were  particularly 
haunting  him  to-day. 

It  was  a  great  mistake  he  made  when  he  cast  her  off 
but  it  could  not  now  be  helped.  No  tears,  no  regrets 
could  bring  back  the  dear  little  form  laid  away  beneath 
the  grassy  sod,  and  so  he  would  not  waste  his  time  in  idle 
mourning.  He  would  do  the  best  he  could  with  'Lina. 
He  did  believe  ihe  loved  him.  He  was  almost  sure  of  it, 
and  as  a  means  of  redressing  Lily's  wrongs  he  would  be 
kind  to  her.  Lily  would  bid  him  do  so  if  she  could 
speak.  She  surely  knew  what  he  was  doing;  perhaps 
she  was  very  near  to  him  ;  he  somehow  felt  that  she  was, 
and  more  than  once,  he  caught  himself  turning  suddenly 
with  the  fancy  that  Lily  was  behind  him.  The  doctor 
was  not  superstitious,  but  he  began  at  last  to  feel  that  it 
would  be  a  relief  to  be  freed  from  the  Lily-laden  atmos- 
phere pervading  Terrace  Hill,  and  rather  joyfully  he 
watched  the  sun  as  it  passed  the  meridian,  and  sank 
lower  and  lower  in  the  west,  for  by  that  token  he  knew 
he  had  not  a  much  longer  time  to  stay  at  home,  as  he 
would  take  the  evening  train  bound  for  Albany. 
****** 
Slowly  the  twilight  shadows   crept  over  Terrace  Hill 

nd  into  the  little  room  where  Adah  was  preparing  for 
her  accustomed   walk  to  the  oiSce.     Willie  was   down 

with  Pamelia,  who,  when  she   came  up  for  him,  had  told 
Adah  as  something  of  which  she  should  be  proud,  that 


264  HUGH  WORTHINGTON. 

the  doctor  had  actually  thrown  Willie  into  the  air  and 
pronounced  him  a  splendid-looking  child,  "  considering."  . 

That  "considering"  wounded  Adah,  for  she  felt  the 
sneer  at  her  position  which  it  implied,  and  with  a  faint 
Braile,  she  dismissed  Pamelia,  and  then  went  to  the 
closet  for  the  over-shoes  she  would  need  in  her  damp 
walk.  But  what  was  it  which  fell  like  a  thunderbolt  on 
b(T  ear,  riveting  her  to  the  spot  where  she  stood,  rigid 
and  immovable.  Between  the  closet  and  Anna's  room 
there  was  only  a  thin  partition,  and  when  the  door  was 
open  every  sound  was  distinctly  heard.  The  doctor  had 
just  come  in,  and  it  was  his  voice,  heard  for  the  first  time, 
whioh  sent  the  blood  throbbing  so  madly  through  Adah's 
veins,  and  made  the  sparks  of  fire  dance  before  her  eyes. 
She  was  not  deceived  — the  tones  were  too  distinct,  too  full, 
too  well  remembered  to  be  mistaken,  and  stretching  out  her 
hands  in  the  dim  darkness,  she  moaned  faintly  :  "  George ! 
'tis  George!"  then  sank  upon  the  floor,  powerless  but 
not  fainting,  nor  yet  unconscious  of  the  terrible  certainty 
that  George  was  so  near  to  her  that  but  for  the  partition 
Bhe  might  almost  have  touched  him !  She  could  hear 
him  now  saying  to  Anna,  "  Are  we  alone  ?  I  wish  to 
Bpeak  my  farewell  words  in  private." 

"  Yes,  all  alone,"  Anna  replied.  "  Mrs.  Hastings  has 
gone  to  the  Post-ofiice.  Was  it  any  thing  particular  you 
wished  to  tell  me  ?  " 

The  Doctor  either  did  not  hear  the  name  "  Mrs  Has- 
tings," or  did  not  notice  it,  and  again  the  familiar  tones 
thrilled  on  Adah's  ear  as  he  replied,  "Nothing  very  par-, 
tioular.  I  only  wished  to  say  a  few  words  of  'Lina.  I 
"W  ant  you  to  like  her,  to  make  up,  if  possible,  for  the  lov 
I  ought  to  give  her." 

''  Ought  to  give  her !  Oh,  brother,  are  you  taking 
TLiina  without  love  ?  Better  never  make  the  vow  than 
break  it  after  it  is  made." 

Anna  spoke  earnestly,  and   the   doctor,   who    alwaya 


THE    KERULT.  265 

tried  to  retain  her  good  opinion,  replied  evasively,  "  I 
suppose  I  do  love  her  as  well  as  half  the  world  love 
their  wives  before  marriage,  but  she  is  different  from  any 
ladies  I  have  known  ;  so  different  from  what  poor  Lily  was. 
Anna,  let  me  talk  with  you  again  of  Lily.  I  never  tol 
you  all  —  but  what  is  that?"  he  continued,  as  he  indis' 
tinctly  heard  the  choking,  gasping,  stifled  sob,  which 
Adah  gave  at  the  sound  of  the  dear  pet  name,  which 
used  to  make  the  blood  thrill  so  ecstatically  through  her 
veins,  and  which  now,  for  a  single  moment,  made  her 
heart  bound  with  sudden  joy ;  but  only  for  a  moment. 
"Poor  Lily,"  said  a  hundred  times,  with  a  hundred  fold 
more  tenderness  than  he  was  wojit  to  say  it,  could  not 
atone  for  the  past;  for  the  cruel  desertion,  for  the  decep- 
tion even  of  the  name  ;  and  so  the  poor,  wounded  heart 
grew  still  again  as  lead,  while  Anna  answered,  "  It's  only 
the  rising  wind.  It  sounds  so  always  when  it's  in  the 
east.  What  of  Lily  ?  Do  you  wdsh  you  were  going 
after  her  instead  of  Lina?  " 

Could  Anna  have  seen  then  into  the  darkness  of  the 
adjoining  room,  she  would  have  shrunk  in  terror  from  the 
figure,  which,  as  she  asked  that  question,  struggled  to  its 
knees,  and  creeping  nearer  to  the  door,  turned  its  white, 
spectral  fivce  toward  her,  listening  eagerly  for  the  answer. 
Oh,  why  did  the  doctor  hesitate  a  moment?  Why  did 
he  suffer  hiS  dread  of  losing  Anna's  respect  to  triumph 
over  every  other  feeling  ?  He  had  meant  to  tell  her  all, 
how  he  did  love  the  gentle  girl,  who  confided  herself  to 
him  —  how  he  loved  even  her  memory  now  far  more 
than  he  loved  'Lina,  but  something  kept  the  full  confes' 
sidu  back,  and  he  answered, 

"7  don''t  know.      We  mast  have  money,  and  'Lina  i 
rich,  while  Lily  was  very  poor,  and  the  only  friend  or  re- 
lation she  knew   was  one  with  whom  I   would  not  dare 
haA'e  you  come  in  contact,  he  was  so  wicked  and  reck- 
less." 

12 


266  HUGH   WORTHTNGTON. 

This  was  what  -the  doctor  said,  and  into  the  brown 
eyes,  now  bloodshot  and  dim  with  anguish,  there  camo 
the  hard,  fierce  look,  before  which  Alice  Johnson  once 
had  shuddered,  when  Adah  Hastings  said, 

«  I  should  hate  him ! " 

And  in  that  dark  hour  of  agony  Adah  felt  that  she  did 
hate  him.  She  knew  now  that  what  she  before  would 
not  believe  was  true.  He  had  not  made  her  a  lawful 
wife,  else  he  had  never  dared  to  take  another.  She  wag 
a  degraded  creature,  Willie  a  child  of  sin,  and  he  had 
made  them  so.  It  was  the  bitterest  dreg  she  had  been 
forced  to  take,  and  for  an  instant,  she  forgot  the  God  she 
served,  forgot  every  thing  save  the  desire  to  curse  the 
man  talking  so  calmly  of  her,  as  if  her  ruin  were  nought 
to  him.  But  anon,  the  still  small  voice  she  always  obey- 
ed spoke  to  her  tumultuous  spirit,  and  the  curse  on  her 
lips  died  away  in  the  fliint  whisper,  "  Forgive  me.  Father, 
and  forgive  him,  too." 

She  did  not  hear  him  now,  for  with  that  prayer,  all  con- 
sciousness forsook  her,  and  she  lay  on  her  face  insensible, 
while  at  the  very  last  he  did  confess  to  Anna  that  Zily 
was  his  wife.  He  did  not  say  unlawfully  so.  He  could 
not  tell  her  that.     He  said, 

"  I  man-ied  her  privately.  I  kept  it  from  you  all  until 
she  died.  I  would  bring  her  back  if  I  could,  but  I  cannot, 
and  I  shall  marry  'Lina." 

"  But,"  and  Anna  grasped  his  hand  nervously,  "  I 
thought  you  told  me  once,  that  you  won  her  love,  and 
then,  when  mother's  harsh  letters  came,  left  her  without 
a  word.     Was  that  story  false  ?  " 

The  doctor  was  wading  out  is  deep  waters  an  1  ip 
desperation  he  added  lie  to  lie,  saying,  huskily  — 

"  Yes,  that  was  false.  I  tell  you  I  married  her,  and  sho 
died.     Was  I  to  blame  for  that  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  oh,  no.  I'd  fir  rather  it  were  so.  I  respect 
you  more  than  if  you  had  left  her.     I  am  glad,  so  glad  no  I 


THE    KESULT.  26/ 

that  she  died,  but  that  you  are  not  so  bad  as  I  feared. 
Sweet  Lily,"  and  Anna's  teais  flowed  fast  to  the  memorj' 
of  the  poor  girl  whose  early  grave  she  saw  in  fancy  some 
where  in  a  beautiful  Greenwood.     * 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door,  and  Jim  appeared,  in 
quiring  if  the  doctor  would  have  the  carriage  brouglil 
round.  It  was  nearly  time  to  go,  and  with  the  w^hisper 
ed  words  to  Anna,  "I  have  told  you  what  no  one  else 
must  ever  know,"  the  doctor  descended  with  his  sister  to 
the  parlor,  where  his  mother  was  waiting  for  him.  The 
opening  and  shutting  of  the  door  caused  a  draught  of  air, 
•which,  falling  on  the  fointiug  Adah,  restored  her  to  con- 
sciousness, and  struggling  to  her  feet,  she  tried  to  think 
what  it  was  that  had  happened.  She  remembered 
it  soon,  and  with  a  shudder  listened  to  know  if  Georo-e 
was  still  in  the  adjoining  cliamber.  All  was  quiet  there. 
He  had  gone,  and  tottering  into  the  room,  she  knelt  by  the 
chair  where  he  knew  she  had  sat.  Then,  as  the  last  expir- 
ing throe  of  her  love  for  him  swept  over  her,  she  essayed 
to  wind  her  trembling  arms  around  the  chair,  as  she  would 
once  have  twined  them  about  him. 

"  Oh,  George !  George  !  "  she  gasped,  calling  liim  still 
George,  for  she  almost  hated  that  other  name.  « Oh, 
George,  I  did  love  you  so  much,"  and  she  laid  her  poor, 
tired  head  upon  the  chair  as  if  it  had  been  his  lap.  "I 
loved  you  so  much,  but  it  is  over  now,  or  it  soon  will  be. 
I  feel  its  death  struggles  at  my  heart.  You  are  worse 
than  I  believed.    You  have  made  me  an  outcast,  and  Willie 

"     The  sentence   ended  with   the  wailing  cry  — 

"  My  boy,  my  boy  !  tliat  such  a  heritage  should  be  yours." 
Adah  could  not  pray  then,  although  she  tried,  but  the 
filting  words  would  not  come,  and  with  her  head  still  rest- 
ng  on  his  chair,  she  looked  the  terrible  reality  in  the 
face,  and  saw  just  where  she  stood.  Heretofore  the  one 
great  hope,  that  she  was  really  a  wife,  had  buoyed  her  up 
when  everything  else  was  dark.     Like  a  drowning  person 


268  HUGH   WORTHIXGTON. 

grasping  at  a  straw,  she  had  clung  to  that,  even  against  her 
better  judgment,  but  now  it  was  swept  away,  and  with  it 
the  semblance  of  a  name.  He  had  deceived  her  even 
there,  and  she  had  accepted  the  Hastings  as  sometliing 
tangible.  He  was  a  greater  villain  than  she  had  imagined 
a  man  could  be,  and  again  her  white  lips  essayed  to  curse 
him,  but  the  rash  act  was  stayed  by  the  low  words  whis- 
pered in  her  ear,  "Forgive  as  ye  would  be  forgiven." 

"  If  it  were  not  for  Willie,  I  might,  but  oh  !  my  boy, 
my  boy  disgraced,"  was  the  rebellious  spirit's  answer,  when 
again  the  voice  whispered,  "  And  who  ait  thou  to  contend 
against  thy  God  ?  Know  you  not  that  I  am  the  Father  of 
the  fatherless." 

There  were  tears  now  in  Adah's  eyes,  the  first  which 
she  had  shed. 

"  I'll  try,"  she  murmured,  "  try  to  forgive  the  wrong,  but 
the  strength  must  all  be  thine,"  and  then,  though  there 
came  no  sound  or  motion  ;  her  heart  went  out  in  aeoniz- 
ing  prayer,  that  she  might  forgive  even  as  she  hoped  to 
ba  forgiven. 

She  did  not  ask  that  the  dead  love  might  ever  return 
again.  She  had  no  desire  for  that,  but  she  asked  to  feel 
kindly  towards  him,  that  the  resentful  feeling  might  be  re- 
moved, that  God  would  show  her  what  to  do  and  where  to 
go,  for  she  could  not  stay  there  now,  in  his  home,  whither 
he  would  bring  his  bride  ere  many  days  were  gone.  She 
must  go  away,  not  to  Spring  Bank,  not  anywhere  where 
he  or  Lina  could  ever  find  her.  She  would  far  rather  die. 
But  Willie  !  what  would  she  do  with  him,  her  tender,  in- 
iiocent  boy  ? 

«  God  tell  me  what  to  do  with  Willie  ?  "  she  sobbed, 
starting  suddenly  as  the  answer  to  her  prayer  seemed  to 
come  at  once.  "  Oh !  can  I  do  that  ?  "  she  moaned  ;  «  can 
I  leave  him  here  ?  " 

At  first  her  whole  soul  recoiled  fiom  it,  but  when  she 
remembered  Anna,  and  how  much  she  loved  the  child,  hot 


TUB    EESULT.  269 

feelings  began  to  change.  Anna  would  love  him  more 
when  she  knew  he  was  poor  Lily's  and  he?  own  brother's, 
fehe  would  be  kind  to  him  for  his  father's  sake,  and  for  the 
Bake  of  the  girl  she  had  professed  to  like.  Willie  should 
be  bequeathed  to  Anna.  It  would  break  her  heart  to 
eave  him,  were  it  not  already  broken,  but  it  was  bettor 
60.  It  would  be  better  in  the  end.  He  would  forget  her 
in  time,  unless  sweet  Anna  told  him  of  her.  as  perhaps  «he 
might.  Dear  Anna,  how  Adah  longed  to  fold  ner  arms 
about  her  once  and  call  her  sister,  but  she  must  not.  It 
might  not  be  well  received,  for  Anna  had  some  pride,  as 
her  waiting-maid  had  learned. 

«A  waiting-maid!"  Adah  repeated  the  name,  smiling 
bitterly  as  she  thought,  «A  waiting-maid  in  his  own 
home!  Who  would  have  dreamed  that  I  should  ever 
come  to  this,  when  he  painted  the  future  so  grandly?  Be 
still,  my  heart,  or  I  shall  hate  him  yet,  and  I'm  going  te 
forgive  him."  , 

Then  there  came  over  her  the  wild,  yearning  desire  to 
Bee  his  face  once  more,  tS  know  if  he  had  changed,  and 
why  couldn't  she?  They  supposed  her  gone  to  the  office 
and  she  would  go  thev^  now,  taking  the  depot  on  the  way 
fehe  would  go  closely  veiled,  and  none  would  suspect  her 
errand.  Rising  mechanically,  she  donned  her  cloak  and 
hood,  and  stealing  down  the  stairs  which  led  fi-om  An- 
na's room  into  the  garden,  she  was  soon  out  beneath 
the  starry  sky,  inhaling  the  cool  night  air,  so  grateful  to 
her  heated  brain. 


Apart  in  the  ladies'  room  at  Snowdon  depot,  a  veiled 
figure  sat,  waiting  apparently  for  the  cars,  just  as  others 
were.  She  was  the  only  female  present,  and  no  one  had 
noticed  her  particularly  ^a  hen  she  came  in,  for  the  gentle- 
men  walking  up  and  down  the  room  onlv  Qlanced  at  her 
and  then  gave  her  no  further  thought.  And  there  she  sat, 
Dr.  Richards'  deserted  wife,  waiting  to  look  on  his  lace 


270  HUGH  WORTHINGTON. 

once  more  ere  she  fled  slie  knew  not  whither.  He  camo 
at  last,  Jim's  voice  speaking  to  his  horses  heralding  his  ap- 
pruudi.  Adah  couki  not  see  him  yet,  but  she  knew  just 
wlien  his  feet  struck  the  phatfonu  as  he  sprang  from  the 
carriage,  and  shivered  as  if  it  were  a  blow  aimed  at  hei 
heart. 

The  group  of  rough-looking  men  gathered  about  tha 
oflice  did  not  suit  his  mood,  and  so  he  came  on  to  the  la- 
dies' apartment,  just  as  Adah  knew  he  would.  Pausing 
for  a  moment  on  the  threshold,  he  looked  hastily  in,  his 
glance  falling  upon  the  veiled  figure  sitting  there  so 
lonely  and  motionless.  She  did  not  care  for  him,  she 
would  not  object  to  his  presence,  so  he  came  nearer  to 
the  stove,  poising  his  patent  leathei-s  upon  the  hearth, 
thrusting  both  hands  into  his  pockets,  and  even  humming 
to  himself  snatches  of  a  song,  which  Lily  used  to  sinfr,up 
the  three  tli<^hts  of  stairs  in  that  New  York  boarding- 
house. 

Poor  Adah  !  How  white  and  cold  she  grew,  listening 
to  that  air,  and  gazing  u[)on  the  face  she  had  loved  so  well. 
It  was  changed  since  the  night  when,  with  his  kiss  warm 
on  her  lips,  he  left  her  forever :  changed,  and  for  the  worse. 
There  was  a  harder,  a  more  reckless,  determined  expression 
there,  a  look  which  better  than  words  could  have  donei 
told  that  self  alone  was  the  god  he  worshipped.  Adah 
doubted  if  he  could  have  won  her  love  with  that  look  up- 
on liis  face,  and  'Lina  AVorthinijton  was  not  envied  the 
h  >!ior  in  store  for  her.  It  was  a  bitter  struggle  to  sit 
tluM-e  so  quietly,  to  meet  the  eye  before  which  she  was 
wont  to  blush  with  ha|)])i!iuss,  to  know  that  he  was  look 
ing  at  her,  womleriiig  it  niiglit  be,  who  she  was,  but  nevci 
dreaming  it  was  Lily. 

Once,  as  he  walked  up  and  down  the  room,  passing  so 
near  to  her  that  she  might  have  touched  him  with  her 
hand,  she  felt  an  almost  irresistible  desire  to  thrust  her 
thick  brown  veil  aside,  and  confronting  him   to  his  f-'"^ 


THE    EESTJLT.  271 

•lain:  from  him  what  she  had  a  nght  to  claim,  his  name 
and  a  position  as  his  wife.  Only  for  Willie's  sake,  how- 
ever ;  for  herself  she  did  not  wish  it.  He  was  not  wor- 
thy, and  forcing  back  the  wild  impulse,  she  sat  with  throb- 
bing heart  and  bloodless  lips  watching  him,  as  he  still 
walked  up  and  down,  his  brows  knit  together  as  if  absorl)- 
ed  in  some  unpleasant  thought. 

It  was  a  relief  when  at  last  the  roll  of  the  cars  was 
heard,  and  buttoning  his  coat  still  closer  around  him,  he 
went  out  upon  the  platform  and  stepped  mechanically  in- 
to the  car. 

Quickly  Adah,  too,  passed  through  the  rear  door  out 
into  the  street,  and  with  a  piteous  moan  for  her  ruined  lifci 
kept  on  her  way  till  the  post-office  was  reached. 

There  was  a  letter  for  Anna  in  the  box,  and  thrusting 
it  into  her  pocket  Adah  took  her  way  back  to  Terraco 
Hill.. 

The  family,  including  Anna,  were  spending  the  evening 
in  the  parlor,  where  there  were  callers,  and  thus  none 
thought  of  or  noticed  Adah  as  she  passed  through  the 
hall  and  crept  up  to  her  room. 

Willie  was  asleep ;  and  as  Pamelia,  who  brought  him 
up,  had  thoughtfully  undressed  and  placed  him  in  bed, 
there  was  nothing  for  Adah  to  do  but  think.  She  should 
go  away,  of  coui-se ;  she  could  not  stay  there  longer ; 
but  how  should  sho  tell  them  why  she  went,  and  who 
would  be  her  medium  for  communication  ? 

"  Anna,"  she  whispered  ;  and  lighting  her  little  lamp,  she 
eat  down  to  write  the  letter  which  would  tell  Anna 
Richards  who  was  the  waiting-maid  to  whom  she  had 
been  so  kind. 

Adah  was  very  calm  when  she  began  that  letter,  and  as  il 
j)rogressed,  she  seemed  turning  into  stone,  so  insensible 
she  was  to  what,  without  that  rigidity  of  nerve,  would 
have  been  a  task  more  painful  than  she  could  well  en- 
dare. 


272  HUGH    VrORTHINGTON. 

*  Dear  Anna,"  she  wrote.  "Fors^ive  me  for  calling 
you  80  this  once,  for  indeed  I  cannot  liclp  it.  I  am  going 
away  from  you  ;  and  when,  in  the  morning,  you  wait  for 
me  to  come  as  usual,  I  shall  not  be  here.  I  could  not 
stay  and  meet  }Our  brother  when  he  returns.  Oh,  Anna, 
Anna,  how  shall  I  begin  to  tell  you  what  I  know  will 
grieve  and  shock  your  pure  nature  so  dreadfully  ? 

*=!  love  to  call  you  Anna  now,  for  you  seem  near  jo 
me;  and  believe  me,  while  I  write  this  to  you,  I  am  con- 
scious of  no  feeling  of  inferiority  to  any  one  bearing 
your  proud  name.  I  am,  or  should  have  been,  yowr  stV 
ter ;  and  Willie  !  —  oh,  my  boy,  when  I  think  of  him,  I 
seem  to  be  going  mad ! 

"  Cannot  you  guess  ?  —  don't  you  know  now  who  I 
am  ?  God  forgive  your  brother,  as  I  asked  him  to  do, 
kneeling  there  by  the  very  chair  where  he  gat  an  hour 
since,  talking  to  you  of  Lily.  I  heard  him,  and  the 
sound  of  his  voice  took  power  and  strength  away.  I 
could  not  move  to  let  you  know  I  was  there,  and  I  lay 
upon  the  floor  till  consciousness  forsook  me ;  and  then, 
when  I  woke  again,  you  both  were  gone. 

"I  went  to  the  depot,  I  saw  him  in  hisface  to  make 
assurance  sure,  and  Anna,  I,  —  oh  I  don't  know  what  I 
am.  The  world  would  not  call  me  a  wife,  though  I  be- 
lieved I  was ;  but  they  cannot  deal  thus  cruelly  by  "Wil- 
lie, or  wash  from  his  veins  his  father's  blood,  for  I  — ,  who 
write  this,  I  who  have  been  a  servant  in  the  house 
where  I  should  have  been  the  mistress,  am  Zrily  — 
wronged,  deserted  Lily  —  and  Willie  is  your  brother's 
child !  His  father's  looks  are  in  his  face.  But  when  I 
arae  here  I  had  no  suspicion,  for  he  won  me  as  George 
Hastings  ;  that  was  the  name  by  which  I  knew  him,  and 
I  was  Adah  Qordcni.  If  you  do  not  believe  me,  ask  him 
when  he  comes  back  if  ever  in  his  wanderings  he  met 
with  Adah  Gordon,  or  her  guardian,  Mr.  Rediield.  Ask 
if  he  was  ever  present  at  a  marriage  where  this  Adah 


THE   KESULT 


273 


gave  her  heart  to  one  for  wlioni  she  would  then  have  lost 
her  life, -erring  in  that  she  loved  the  gift  more  than  the 
gimr  ;  but  God  punishes  idolatry,  and  he  has  punished 
me,  so  sorely,  oh  so  sorely,  that  sometimes  my  fainting 
soul  cries  out,  '  'tis  more  than  I  can  bear.'  " 

Tlien  followed  more  particulars  so  that  there  should  be 
no  doubt,  and  then  the  half  crazed  Adah  took  up  the 
theme  nearest  to  her  heart,  her  boy,  her  beautiful  Willie. 
She  could  not  take  him  with  her.  She  Xn-^w  not  where 
she  was  going,  and  Willie  must  not  suffer.  Would  Anna 
take  the  child?  Would  she  love  him  foi  Mo  father's 
sake  ?  Would  she  shield  him  from  scorn,  and  when  he 
was  older  would  she  sometimes  tell  him  of  the  mother 
who   went  away   that  he  might  be  spared  shame  ? 

« I  do  not  ask  that  the  new  bride  should  ever  call  him 
hers,"  she  wrote ;  "  I'd  rather  she  would  not.  I  ask  that 
you  should  give  him  a  mother's  care,  and  if  his  flither 
will  sometimes  speak  kindly  to  him  for  the  sake  of  the 
olden  time  •  when  he  did  love  the  mother,  tell  him  — 
Willie's  father,  I  mean  —  tell  him,  oh  I  know  not  what 
to  bid  you  tell  him,  except  that  I  forgive  him,  though  at 
first  it  was  so  hard,  and  the  words  refused  to  come  ;  I 
trusted  him  so  much,  loved  him  so  much,  and  until  I  had 
it  from  his  own  lips,  believed  I  was  his  wife.  But  that 
cured  me ;  that  killed  the  love,  if  any  still  existed,  and 
now,  if  I  could,  I  would  not  be  his,  unless  it  were  for 
Willie's  sake.  Don't  deem  me  too  proud  when  I  say,  that 
to  be  his  wife  would  be  to  me  more  terrible  than  any  thing 
which  I  yet  have  borne,  except  it  were  for  Willie.  I  say 
tl  is  because' it's  possible  yo\ir  kind  heart  would  prompt 
you  at  once  to  bring  back  your  erring  brother,  and  per- 
suade him  at  the  last  to  do  me  justice.  But  I  would  not 
have  it  so.  Shield  Willie;  nurture  liim  tenderly;  teach 
your  mother  to  love  him,  and  if  you  so  desire  it,  I  will 
nevei  cross  his  path,  never  come  near  to  him,  though  at  a 
distance,  if  Heaven  wills  it,  I  shall  watch  my  child. 
12» 


274  TlV'jU    WORTIIINGTON. 

"And  now  farewell.  God  deal  with  you,  dear  Anna, 
as  you  deal  with  my  boy." 

Cal'Tily,  steadily,  Adah  folded  up  the  missive,  and  lay- 
ing it  with  the  other  letter,  busied  herself  next  in  making 
the  necessary  preparations  for  her  flight.  Anna  had  beea 
very  liberal  with  her  in  point  of  wages,  paying  her  every 
week,  and  paying  more  than  at  first  agreed  upon  ;  and  aa 
8he  had  scarcely  spent  a  penny  during  her  three  months' 
Bojourn  at  Terrace  Hill,  she  had,  including  what  Alice 
liad  given  to  her,  nearly  forty  dollars.  She  was  trying  so 
hard  to  make  it  a  hundred,  and  so  send  it  to  Hugh  some 
day ;  but  she  needed  it  most  herself,  and  she  placed  it 
carefully  in  her  little  purse,  sighing  over  the  golden  coin 
which  Anna  had  paid  her  last,  little  dreaming  for  what 
purpose  it  would  be  used.  She  would  not  change  her 
dress  until  Anna  had  retired,  as  that  might  excite  suspi- 
cion ;  so  with  the  same  rigid  apathy  of  manner  she  sat 
down  by  Willie's  side  and  waited  till  Anna  was 
heard  moving  in  her  room.  The  lamp  w^as  burning  dim- 
ly on  the  bureau,  and  so  Anna  failed  to  see  the  frightful 
expression  of  Adah's  face  as  she  performed  her  accustom- 
ed duties,  brushing  Anna's  hair,  and  letting  her  hands  lin- 
ger caressingly  amid  the  locks  she  might  never  touch 
again. 

It  did  strike  Anna  that  something  was  the  matter ;  for 
when  Adah  spoke  to  her,  the  voice  was  husky  and  unnat- 
ural. Still,  she  paid  no  attention,  and  the  chapter  was 
read  as  usual,  after  wdiich  Adah  bade  her  good-night  and 
went  to  her  ow'n  room.  Anna  slept  very  soundly,  and 
when  toward  morning  a  light  footstep  glided  across  her 
threshold  she  did  not  hear  it,  neither  did  she  know  when 
two  letters  were  laid  softly  on  her  pillowy  where  she  cculd 
not  fail  to  find  them  when  she  aw^oke,  nor  yet  was  she 
aware  of  the  blessings  breathed  over  her,  as  kneeling  by 
hei  side  Adah  prayed  out  her  farewell.  Not  wept.  She 
could  not  do  that,  even  when  it  came  to  .caving  Willie. 


EXCITEMENT.  275 

Her  tears  were  frozen  into  stone,  and  the  mighty  throea 
of  anguish  which  seemed  forcing  her  heart  from  its  na- 
tural position  were  of  no  avail  to  moisten  the  feverish  lids, 
drooping  so  heavily  over  the  swollen  eyes.  A  convulsive 
prayer,  in  which  her  whole  soul  was  embodied,  a  gasping 
sob  of  bitter,  bitter  pain,  and  then  Adah  put  from  her  the 
little  soft,  warm,  baby  arm  which  Willie  had  unconscious- 
ly thrown  across  her  neck  when  she  laid  her  face  by  hig 
She  dared  not  look  at  him  again  lest  the  sight  should  un- 
nerve her,  and  with  a  decision  born  of  desperation,  she  leffc 
her  sleeping  boy  and  hurried  down  the  stairs  into  the 
gloomy  hall,  where  not  a  sound  was  audible  as  her  feet 
pressed  the  soft  thick  carpet  on  her  passage  to  the  outer 
door.  The  bolt  was  drawn,  the  key  was  turned,  and  just 
as  the  clock  struck  three,  Adah  stood  outside  the  yard, 
leaning  on  the  gate  and  gazing  back  at  the  huge  building 
looming  up  so  dark  and  grand  beneath  the  starry  sky- 
One  more  prayer  for  Willie  and  the  mother-auntie  to  whose 
care  she  had  left  him,  one  more  straining  glance  at  the 
window  of  the  little  room  where  he  lay  sleeping,  and  she 
resolutely  turned  away,  nor  stopped  again  until  the  Dan- 
ville depot  was  reached,  the  station  where,  in  less  than  five 
minutes  after  her  arrival,  the  night  express  stood  for  an  in- 
stant, and  then  went  thundering  on,  bearing  with  it  ano- 
ther passenger,  bound  for  —  she  knew  not,  cared  not  whi 
ther. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

EXCITEMENT. 


They  were  not  early  risers  at  Terrace  Hijfl,  and  the 
morning  following  Adah's  flight  Anna  slept  later  than 
usual ;  nor  was  it  until  Willie's  cry,  calling  for  mamma, 


276  HUGH    WOKTIIINGTON. 

was  heard,  that  she  awoke,  and  thinking  Adah  had  gone 
down  for  something,  bade  Willie  come  to  her.  Putting 
out.  her  arms  she  lifted  him  carefully  into  her  own  bed, 
and  in  so  doing  brushed  from  her  pillow  the  letters  le(l 
for  her.  But  it  did  not  matter  then,  and  for  a  full  half 
hour  she  lay  waiting  for  Adah's  return.  Growing  impa- 
tient at  last,  she  stoi)ped  upon  the  floor,  her  bare  feet  touch- 
ing something  cold,  soinething  which  made  her  look  down 
and  find  that  she  was  stepping  on  a  letter  —  not  one,  but 
two  —  and  in  wondering  surprise  she  turned  them  to  the 
light,  half  fainting  with  excitement,  when  on  the  back  of 
the  first  one  examined,  she  saw  the  old  familiar  handwrit- 
ing:, and  knew  that  Charlie  had  written. 

Anna  had  hardly  been  human  had  she  waited  an  instant 
ere  she  tore  open  the  envelope  and  learned  that  Charlie 
had  returned  from  India  and  had  not  forgotten  her.  The 
love  of  his  early  manhood  had  increased  with  his  maturer 
years,  and  he  could  not  be,  satisfied  until  he  heard  from 
her  that  he  was  remembered  and  still  beloved,  that  if  this 
letter  did  not  bring  a  reply  he  should  come  himself  and 
brave  the  proud  woman  who  guarded  the  entrance  to  Ter- 
race Hill. 

This  was  Charlie's  letter,  this  what  Anna  read,  and  de- 
licious tears  of  joy  flowed  over  her  beautiful  face,  a^ 
pressing  the  paper  to  her  lips,  she  murmured, 

"Dear  Charlie  !  darling  Charlie  !  I  thank  the  kind  Fath- 
er for  bringing  him  at  last  to  me." 

Hiding  it  in  her  bosom,  Ar  na  took  the  other  letter,  and 
throwing  her  shawl  around  her,  sat  down  by  the  wdndow 
and  read  it  through  —  read  it  once,  read  it  twice,  read  it 
thrice,  and  then Sure  never  were  the  inmates  of  Ter- 
race Hill  thrown  into  so  much  astonishment  and  alarm  as 
they  were  that  April  morning,  when,  in  her  cambric  night 
robe,  her  long  hair  falling  unbound  about  her  shoulders, 
and  her  bare  feet,  gleaming  white  and  cold  upon  the  floor, 
Miss  Anna  went  screaming  from  room  to  room,  demand* 


EXCITEMENT.  277 

ing  of  the  startled  inmates  if  they  had  seen  Adah  Has- 
tings—  if  they  knew  Avhere  she  had  gone  —  bidding  Jim 
find  her  at  his  peril,  telling  Pamelia  to  join  in  the  search, 
and  asking  her  wonder-stricken  mother  and  sisters  "  if  they 
had  any  idea  who  it  was  that  had  been  an  inmate  of  theif 
house  fur  so  many  w^eeks." 

"  Come  with  me,"  she  almost  screamed,  and  dragging 
her  mother  to  her  room,  where  Willie  sat  up  in  bed,  look- 
ing curiously  about  him  and  uncertain  whether  to  cry  or 
to  laugh,  she  exclaimed,  "  Look  at  him,  mother,  and  you, 
too,  Asenath  and  Eudora ! "  turning  to  her  sisters,  who  had 
followed.  "  Tell  me  who  is  he  like  ?  —  Mother,  surely 
you  ought  to  know  —  ought  to  recognize  your  own  son's 
offspring,  for  he  Is,  he  certainly  is,  John's  child  !  and  Adah 
was  Lily,  the  young  girl  whom  you  forbade  him  to  marry  ! 
Listen,  mother,  you  shall  listen  to  what  your  pride  has 
done ! "  and  grasping  the  bewildered  Mrs.  Richards  by 
the  arm,  Anna  held  her  fast  while  she  read  aloud  the 
letter  left  by  Adah. 

Mrs.  Richards  fainted.  It  was  the  best  thing  under  the 
circumstance  which  she  could  do,  as  it  gave  them  all  a 
little  diversion  from  the  exciting  matter  in  hand.  She 
soon  recovered,  however,  and  listened  eagerly  while  Anna 
repeated  all  her  brother  had  ever  told  her  of  Lily. 

"I  believe  it  is  true,"  she  said,  and  taking  the  letter  she 
read  it  for  herself,  feeling  an  added  respect  for  Adah,  as  she 
marked  the  flashes  of  pride  gleaming  out  here  and  there, 
and  showing  themselves  in  the  resentful  manner  with 
which  she  spurned  the  thought  of  now  being  the  doctor's 
wife,  except  it  were  for  Willie. 

Poor  Willie !  He  was  there  in  the  bed,  looking  curious- 
ly at  the  four  women,  none  of  whom  seemed  quit© 
willing  to  own  him,  save  Anna.  Her  heart  took  him  in  at 
once.  He  had  been  given  to  her.  She  would  be  faithful 
to  the  trust,  and  folding  him  in  her  arms,  she  cried  softly 
over  him,  kissing  his  little  face  and  calling  him  her  dar- 
ling. 


278  HUGH    WOETIILNGTON. 

**  Anna,  how  can  you  fondle  sucli  as  he  ?  "  Eudom  asked, 
rather  sharply,  for  her  nature  was  the  hardest,  coldest  of 
them  all,  and  rebelled  against  the  innocent  boy. 

"He  is  our  brother's  child.  Our  blood  is  in  l)is  veins, 
and  that  is  why  we  all  must  love  him.  Mother,  you  will 
not  turn  from  your  grandson,"  and  Anna  held  the  boy 
toward  her  mother,  who  did  not  refuse  to  take  him. 

Asenath  always  went  with  her  mother,  and  at  once 
showed  signs  of  relenting  by  laying  her  hand  on  Willie's 
head  and  calling  him  "poor  boy."  Eudora  held  out 
longer,  but  Anna  knew  slie  would  yield  in  time,  and 
satisfied  witli  Willie's  reception  so  far,  went  on  to  speak 
of  Adah.  Where  was  she,  did  they  suppose,  and  what 
were  the  best  means  of  finding  her. 

At  this  Mrs.  Richards  demurred,  as  did  Asenath  with 
her. 

"  Adah  was  gone,  and  they  had  better  let  her  go 
quietly.  She  was  nothing  to  them,  and  if  they  took 
Willie,  it  was  all  that  could  be  required  of  them.  Had 
Adah  been  John's  wife,  it  would  of  course  be  different, 
but  she  was  not,  and  his  marriage  with  'Lina  must  not 
now  be  prevented.  Neither  must  any  one  save  themselves 
and  John  ever  know  who  Willie  was.  It  was  not  neces- 
sary to  bruit  their  affairs  abroad.  It  was  very  wicked 
and  bad  in  John,  of  course,  but  other  young  men  were  as 
bad." 

This  was  Mrs.  Richards'  reasoning,  but  Anna's  wai 
diflferent. 

"John  had  distinctly  said, 'I  married  Lily,  and  she 
died.'  Adah  was  mistaken  about  the  marriage  being  un- 
law^ful.  It  was  a  falsehood  he  told  her.  She  was  his 
wife,  and  he  must  not  be  permitted  to  commit  bigamy. 
He  loved  Lily  far  better  than  he  did  'Lina.  He  would 
move  heaven  and  earth  to  find  her,  did  he  know  that  she 
was  living.  And  he  should  know  of  it.  Slie  was  going  to 
Kentucky  herself  to  tell  him.     She   would  not  trust  to 


EXCITEMENT. 


279 


the  telegraph,  and  should  start  that  very  night.  There 
would  be  no  scene.  She  would  only  tell  John  in  private. 
They  need  not  try  to  dissuade  her,  for  she  should  go." 

Tliis   was  what   Anna  said,  and  all  in  vain  were  her 
mother's  entreaties  to  let  matters  take  their  course.     An 
ua  only  replied  by  going  deliberately  on  with  the  prepa 
rations  for  her  sudden  journey,  pausing  now  and  then  U 
dream  a  moment  over  her  own  new  happiness,  taking  the 
letter  from  her  bosom  and  whispering,   "  Dear   Charlie," 
and  then   as   Willie   cried  for  his  mother,  she  essayed  to 
quiet  him,  hugging  him  in   her  arms  and  mingling  her 
own  tears   with  his.     The   servants  were  told   that  Mrs. 
Hastings  had  run  away,  Eudora,  the  informer,  hinting  of 
insanity,  and  so  this  accounted  for  the  sudden  interest 
manifested  for  Willie  by  the  other  ladies,  who  had  him 
in  at  their  breakfast,  and  kept  him  with  them  in  the  par- 
loi,  in  spite  of  Pamelia's  endeavors  to  coax  him  away. 
This  accounted,  too,  for  Anna's  journey.     She  was  going 
to  find  Adah,  and  blessing  her  for  this  kindness  to  one 
whom    they   had   liked   so   much,  Dixson   and   Pamelia 
helped  to  get  her  ready,  both  promising  the  best  of  care 
to   Willie   in   her   absence,  both  asking  where  she  was 
going  first,  and  both  receiving  the  same  answer,  "  To  Al- 
bany!" 

Mrs.  Richards  was  too  much  stunned  clearly  to  com- 
prehend what  had  happened  or  what  would  be  the  re- 
sult ;  and  in  a  kind  of  apathetic  maze  she  bade  Anna 
good-bye,  and  then  went  back  to  where  Willie  sat  upon 
the  sofa  examining  and  occasionally  tearing  the  costly 
booK  of  foreign  prints  which  had  been  given  him  to 
keep  him  still  and  make  him  cease  his  piteous  wail  for 
**  mam-ma."  It  seemed  like  a  dream  to  the  three  ladiei 
sitting  at  home  that  night  and  talking  about  Anna  ;  won 
dering  that  a  person  of  her  weak  nerves  and  feeble  health 
should  suddenly  become  so  active,  so  energetic,  so  deci- 
ded, and  of  her  own  accord  start  off  on  a  long  journey 
alone  and  unprotected. 


280  HUGH    WORTIIIHGTON. 

And  Anna  wondered  at  lierself  wlion  tlie  excitement 
of  leaving  was  past,  and  the  train  was  bearing  lier  swiftly 
along  on  her  mission  of  duty.  She  had  written  a  few 
lines  to  Charlie  Millbrook,  telling  him  of  her  unaltered 
love,  and  bidding  him  come  to  her  in  three  weeks  time, 
when  she  would  be  ready  to  see  him.  She  had  unselOsh- 
ly  put  the  interview  off  thus  long  because  she  did  not 
know  what  might  occur  in  the  interim,  and  when  he 
came  she  wished  to  be  quiet  and  free  from  i\\  excitement. 
She  had  herself  dropped  the  letter  in  the  post-office  as 
she  came  down  to  the  depot.  She  knew  it  was  safe,  and 
leaning  back  in  her  seat  in  the  car  she  felt  a  happy 
peace  which  nothing  could  disturb,  not  even  thoughts  of 
Adah  —  Lily  she  called  her  —  wandering  she  knew  not 
where 

It  was  very  dark  and  rainy,  and  the  passengers  jostled 
each  other  rudely  as  they  passed  from  the  cars  in  Albany 
and  hurried  to  the  boat.  It  was  new  business  to  Anna, 
traveling  alone  and  in  the  night,  and  a  feeling  akin  to 
fear  was  creeping  over  her  as  she  wondered  tohere  she 
should  find  the  eastern  train. 

"Follow  the  crowd,"  seemed  yelled  out  for  her  benefit, 
though  it  was  really  intended  for  a  timid,  deaf  old  lady, 
who  had  anxiously  asked  what  to  do  of  one  whose  laco- 
nic reply  was,  '"  Follow  the  crowd."  And  Anna  did  fol- 
low the  crowd,  wliich  led  her  safely  to  the  waiting  cars. 
Snugly  enconsced  in  a  seat  all  to  herself,  she  vainly  im- 
agined there  was  no  more  trouble  until  Cleveland,  or 
Buffalo  at  least,  was  reached.  How,  then,  was  she  disap- 
pointed when,  alighting  for  a  moment  at  Rochester,  sbo 
ound  herself  in  a  worse  Babel,  if  possible,  than  had  ex- 
sled  at  Albany.  Where  were  all  these  folks  going,  and 
which  was  the  train.  "  I  ought  not  to  have  alighted  at 
all,"  she  thought ;  "  I  might  have  known  I  never  could 
find  my  way  back."  Xever,  sure,  was  poor,  little  woman 
80  oonfused  and  bewildered  as  Anna,  and  it  is  not  strange 


EXCITEMENT.  281 

that  she  stood  directly  upon  the  track,  unmindful  of  the 
increasing  din  and  roar  as  the  train  from  Niagara  Falls 
came  thundering  into  the  depot.  It  was  in  vain  that  the 
cabman  nearest  to  her  halloed  to  warn  her  of  the  im- 
pending danger.  She  never  dreamed  that  they  meant  her, 
:>i  suspected  her  great  peril,  until  from  out  the  group 
waiting  to  take  that  very  train,  a  tall  figure  sprang,  and 
grasping  her  light  form  round  the  waist,  bore  her  to  a 
place  of  safety  —  not  because  he  guessed  that  it  was  AiV' 
nie,  but  because  it  was  a  human  being  whom  he  would 
save  from  a  fearful  death. 

"  Excuse  me,  madam,"  he  began,  as  with  the  long  train 
between  them  and  the  people,  they  stood  comparatively 
alone,  but  whatever  she  might  have  said  was  lost  in  the 
low,  thrilling  scream  of  joy  with  which  Anna  recognized 
him. 

"  Charlie,  Charlie  !  oh,  Charlie !  "  she  cried,  burying  her 
face  in  his  bosom  and  sobbing  like  a  child. 

There  was  no  time  to  waste  in  explanations ;  scarcely 
time,  indeed,  for  Charlie  to  ask  where  she  was  going,  and 
if  the  necessity  to  go  on  were  imperative.  H  her  arrange- 
ments could  not  bend  to  his,  why  his  must  bend  to  hers, 
and  unmindful  of  the  audience  away  to  the  eastward 
who  would  that  night  wait  in  vain  for  the  appearance  of 
Mr.  Millbrook,  the  returned  missionary,  Charlie  wound  his 
arm  around  the  half  fainting  form,  dearer  than  his  own 
life,  and  carried  rather  than  led  her  to  a  seat  in  the  car 
just  on  the  point  of  rolling  from  the  depot. 

"  You  won't  leave  me,"  Anna  whispered,  clinging  closer 
to  him,  as  she  remembered  how  improbable  it  was  that 
be  was  going  the  same  way  with  herself. 

"Leave  you,  darling?  no,"  and  pressing  the  little  fin- 
gers twining  so  lovingly  about  his  own,  Charlie  replit  :1, 
"  I  shall  not  leave  you  again." 

He  needed  no  words  to  tell  him  of  her  unaltered  love, 
and  satisfied  to  have  her  at  last,  he  drew  her  closely  to 


282  HUGH   WORTHmGTON". 

hira,  and  laying  her  tired  head  upon  his  bosom,  gazed 
fondly  at  the  face  he  had  not  seen  in  many  years.  That 
dear  face  he  had  once  thought  so  beautiful  and  had 
dreamed  about  so  often,  even  when  another  was  sleep- 
ing at  his  side,  was  it  changed  ?  Yes,  slightly.  "Tl»o 
fresh,  girlish  bloom  of  only  eighteen  summers  was  gone, 
but  Anna  wore  her  thirty-three  years  lightly,  and  if 
j)OSsible,  the  maturer  fice  was  more  beautiful  to  Char- 
lie than  the  laughing  maiden's  had  been,  for  he  traced 
on  it  unmistakable  marks  of  that  peace  which  Anna  had 
found  in  her  later  life  ;  and  without  questioning  her  at 
all,  Charlie  Millbrook  knew  his  darling  Anna  had  chosen 
the  better  part,  and  that  in  the  next  world  she  would 
be  his,  even  as  he  hoped  to  call  her  his  own  for  the  re- 
mainder of  his  sojourn  on  eartli.  Curious,  tittering  maid- 
ens, of  whom  there  are  usually  one  or  two  in  every  car, 
looked  at  that  couple  near  the  door  and  whispered  to  their 
companions, 
^  "  Bride  and  groom.  Just  see  how  he  hugs  her.  Some 
widower,  I  know,  married  to  a  young  wife." 

But  neither  Charlie  nor  Anna  cared  for  the  speculations 
to  which  they  w^ere  giving  rise.  Tliey  had  found  each 
other,  and  the  happiness  enjoyed  during  the  two  hours 
which  elapsed  ere  Buffalo  was  reaclierl,  more  than  made 
amends  for  all  the  lonely  years  of  wretchedness  they  had 
spent  apart  from  each  other.  Charlie  had  told  Anna  brief- 
ly of  his  life  in  India  —  had  spoken  feelingly,  affectionate- 
ly, of  his  gentle  Hattie,  who  had  died,  blessing  him  with 
her  last  breath  for  the  kindness  he  had  ever  sho^vu  to  her; 
of  baby  Annie's  grave,  by  the  side  of  which  he  buried 
t)ie  young  mother;  of  his  loneliness  after  that,  his  failing 
lioalth,  his  yearning  for  a  sight  of  home,  his  embarkatiou 
for  America,  his  hope  through  all  that  she  might  still  be 
won  ;  and  his  letter  whi?h  she  received.  And  then  Anna 
told  him  where  she  was  going,  spaiing  her  brother  as  much 
as  possible,  and  dwelling  long  upon  poor  Lily's  gentleness 
and  oeauty. 


MATTERS    AT    SPRING   BANK.  283 

So  it  was  settled  that  Charley  should  go  with  her,  and 
his  presence  made  her  for  less  impatient  than  she  would 
otherwise  have  been,  when,  owing  to  some  accident,  they 
were  delayed  so  long  that  the  Cleveland  train  was  gone, 
and  there  was  no  alternative  but  to  wait  in  Buffalo.  At 
Cincinnati  there  was  another  detention,  and  it  was  not 
antil  the  very  day  appointed  for  the  wedding  that,  with 
Charlie  still  beside  her,  Anna  entered  the  carriage  hired 
Bt  Lexington,  and  started  for  Spring  Bank,  whither  for  a 
little  we  will  precede  her,  taking  up  the  narrative  prior  to 
this  day,  and  about  the  time  when  'Lina  first  returned 
home  from  New  York,  laden  with  arrogance  and  airs. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

MATTERS    AT    SPRING    BANK. 

It  had  been  a  bright,  pleasant  day  in  March,  when  'Lina 
was  expected  home,  and  in  honor  of  her  anivnl  the  house 
at  Spring  Bank  wore  its  most  cheery  aspect;  not  that  any 
one  was  particularly  pleased  because  she  was  coming,  un- 
less it  were  the  mother;  but  it  was  still  an  event  of  some 
impor^/'ince,  and  so  the  negroes  cleaned  and  scrubbed  and 
scoured,  wondering  if"  Miss  'Lina  done  fotch  'em  anything," 
while  Alice  arranged  and  re-arranged  the  plainly-furnished 
rooms,  feeling  beforehaadhowthe  contrast  betAveen  them 
and  the  elegancies  to  wMch  'Lina  had  recently  been  ac- 
customed, would  affect  her. 

Hugh  had  thought  of  the  same  thing,  and  much  as  it 
hurt  him  to  do  it,  lie  sold  one  of  his  pet  colts,  and  giv* 
Ing  the  proceeds  to  Alice,  bade  her  use  it  as  she  saw  fit. 

It  v/as  astonishing  how  far  Alice  made  the  hundred 
dollai  4  go.  Hugh  had  no  idea  it  would  buy  so  much,  and 
in  bli  sful  ignorance  that  Alice  herself  had  supplied  many 


284  HUGH   WORTHINGTON. 

articles  from  her  own  funds,  he  assisted  in  nailing  down 
carpets  and  oil-cl,otlis,  and  putting  up  curtains,  while  he 
even  ventured  to  try  liis  hand  at  painting,  succeeding  ad- 
mirably, but  spoiling  an  entire  suit  of  clothes,  and  lea\'ing 
more  than  one  mark  of  his  brush  on  Alice's  black  dress. 
Spring  Bank  had  never  looked  one-half  so  wellbefore,  and 
the  negroes  were  positive  there  was  no  where  to  be  found 
so  handsome  a  room  as  the  large  airy  parlor,  with  its  new 
Brussels  carpet  and  curtains  of  worsted  brocatelle. 

Even  Hugh  was  somewhat  of  the  same  opinion,  but 
then  he  only  looked  at  the  room  with  Alice  standing  in 
its  centre,  so  it  is  not  strange  that  he  should  judge  it  favor- 
ably. Ad,  would  be  pleased,  he  knew,  and  he  gave  or- 
ders that  the  carriage  and  harness  should  be  thoroughly 
cleaned,  and  the  horses  well  groomed,  for  he  would  make 
a  good  impression  upon  his  sister. 

Alas,  she  was  not  worth  the  trouble, —  the  proud,  selfish 
creature,  who,  all  the  way  from  Lexington  to  the  Big 
Spring  station  had  been  hoping  Ilufjh  would  not  take  it 
into  his  head  to  meet  her,  or  if  he  did,  that  he  would  not 
have  on  his  homespun  suit  of  grey,  with  his  pants  tucked 
in  his  boots,  and  so  disgrace  her  in  the  eyes  of  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Ford,  her  traveling  companions,  who  would  see  him 
from  the  window.  Yes,  there  he  was,  standing  expectant- 
ly upon  the  platform,  and  she  turned  her  head  the  other 
way,  pretending  not  to  see  hira  until  the  train  moved  on, 
and  Hugh  compelled  her  notice  by  grasping  her  hand  and 
calling  her  "  sister  'Lin a,"  j|fl||^ 

ohe  had  acquired  a  certain  city  air  by  her  sojourn  in 
New  York,  and  in  her  fashionably  made  traveling  drosH 
and  hat  was  far  more  stylish  looking  than  when  Hugh 
last  parted  from  her.  But  nothing  abashed  he  held  hei 
hand  a  moment  while  lie  inquired  about  her  journey,  and 
then  playfully  added, 

"Upon  my  word,  Ad,  you  have  improved  a  heap,  in 
looks  I  mean.     Of  course  I  don't  know  about  the  temper. 


MATTERS    AT    SPEIN^G   BANK.  285 

Spunky  as  ever,  eh?"  and  he  tried  to  pinch  her  glowing 
cheek.  ' 

"Pray  don't  be  foolish,"  was  'Lina's  impatient  reply,  as 
she  drew  away  from  him,  and  turned,  with  her  blandest 
smile,  to  a  sprig  of  a  lawyer  from  Frankfort,  who  chanced 
to  be  there  too. 

Chilled  by  her  manner,  Hugh  ordered  the  carriage,  and 
told  her  they  were  ready.  Once  alone  with  him,  'Lina's 
tongue  was  loosened,  and  she  poured  out  numberless 
questions,  the  first  of  which  was,  «  What  they  heard  from 
Adah,  and  if  it  were  true,  as  her  mother  had  written,  that 
no  one  at  TeiTace  Hill  knew  of  her  acquaintance  with 
Spring  Bank." 

"  Yes,  he  supposed  it  was,  and  he  did  not  like  it  either. 
Ad,"  and  he  turned  his  honest  face  full  toward  her,  "  does 
that  doctor  still  believe  you  rich  ?  " 

«  How  do  I  know  ?  "  'Lina  replied,  frowning  gloomily. 
"  I'm  not  to  blame  if  he  does.     I  never  told  him  I  was." 

"But  your  actions  implied  as  much,  which  amounts  to 
the  same  thing.  It's  all  wrong,  Ad,  all  wrong.  Even  if 
he  loves  you,  and  it  is  to  be  hoped  he  does,  he  will  respect 
you  less  when  he  knows  how  you  deceived  him." 

«  Hadn't  you  better  interfere  and  set  the  matter  right  ?  " 
asked  'Lina,  now  really  roused. 

« I  did  think  of  doing  so  once,"  Hugh  rejoined,  but  ere 
lie  could  say  more,  'Lina  grasped  his  arm  fiercely,  her  face 
dark  with  passion  as  she  exclaimed, 

"  Hugh,  if  you  meddle,  you'll  rue  the  day.  It's  my  3wn 
affair,  and  I  know  what  I'm  doing." 

She  was  very  angry,  and  her  black  eyes  fairly  blazed  as 
they  glanced  at  Hugh,  who  once  would  have  returned  her 
Bcom  for  scom.  But  Hugh  was  learning  to  govern  his  hot 
temper.  The  diamond  was  polishing;  besides  that,  he 
would  not  quarrel  with  her  on  this  first  day  of  her  re- 
turn, so  he  answered  in  the  same  kind  tone  of  voice  ho 
had  assumed  toward  her. 


286  HUGH   WORTniK-GTON. 

"  I  do  not  intend  to  meddle,  thonj:]!  I  encouraged  Adah 
in  her  wild  plan  «f  going  to  TtTrace  Hill,  because  I  tliouglit 
they  would  learn  from  her  just  how  rich  we  are.  But 
Adah  foolishly  says  nothing  of  Spring  Bank.  I  don't  like 
It,  neither  does  Miss  Johnson.  Indeed,  I  some  times  think 
Bhe  is  more  anxious  than  I  am." 

"Miss  Johnson,"  and  'Lina  spoke  disdainfully,  *  Td 
thank  her  to  mind  her  own  business.  She's  only  jealous 
and  wants  the  doctor  herself." 

Hugh  made  her  no  reply,  and  they  proceeded  on  in 
silence,  unf-il  they  came  in  sight  of  Spring  Bank,  when 
'Lin a  broke  out  afresh, 

"  Such  a  tumble-down  shanty  as  that !  It  was  not  fit  for 
decent  people  to  live  in,  and  mercy  knew  she  was  glad  her 
sojourn  them  was  to  be  short." 

"  You  are  not  alone  in  that  feeling,"  came  dryly  from 
Hugh,  who  ooald  not  forbear  that  remark. 

'Lina  said  ho.  was  a  very  affectionate  brother;  that  she 
was  glad  there  were  those  who  appreciated  her,  even  if 
he  did  not,  an  1  tben  the  carriage  stopped  at  Spring  Bank, 
where  the  family  stood  waiting  for  her  upon  the  long 
piazza.  Mrs.  Worthington  was  hearty  in  her  welcome,  for 
her  mother  heart  went  out  warmly  towards  her  daughter, 
who,  as  bride-elect  of  a  Richards,  was,  in  her  estimation,  a 
creature  of  more  importance  than  plain  'Lina  had  beer., 
with  nothing  in  pros[)ect.  Oh,  what  airs  'Lina  did  put  on, 
and  what  pains  she  took  to  appear  cityjied,  merely  noticing 
the  expectant  negroes  with  a  "  how  dye,"  offering  the  tips 
of  her  fingers  to  good  Aunt  Eunice,  trying  to  patronize 
Alice  herself,  and  only  noticing  Densie  Densmore  with  a 
aughty  stare. 

"Upon  my  word,"  'Lina  began,  as  she  entered  the 
pleasant  parlor,  "this  it}  better  than  I  expected.  Some- 
body ]j»as  been  very  kind  for  my  sake.  Miss  Johnson,  I  am 
sure  it's  you  I  have  to  thank,'  and  with  a  little  flush  of 
gratitude  she  turaed  to  AIic<°^  who  '•f'plied  in  a  low  tone. 


MATTERS    AT    SPRING   BANK.  287 

«  Thank  your  brother.  He  made  a  saci-ifice  for  the  sake 
of  surprising  you."  , 

Whether  it  was  a  desire  to  appear  amiable  in  Alice's 
eyes,  or  because  she  really  was  touched  with  Hugh's  gen- 
erosity, 'Lina  involuntarily  threw  her  arm  around  his 
nock,  and  gave  to  him  a  kiss  which  he  remembered  for  a 
iong,  long  time. 

Swiftly  the  days  went  by,  bringing  callers  to  see  Tlina, 
Ellen  Tiffton,  who  received  back  her  jewelry,  and  who 
was  to  be  bridesmaid,  inasmuch  as  Alice  preferred  to  be 
more  at  liberty,  and  see  that  matters  went  on  properly. 
This  brought  Ellen  often  to  Spring  Bank,  and  as  'Lina 
was  much  with  her,  Alice  was  left  more  time  to  think. 
Adah's  continued  silence  with  regard  to  Dr.  Richards  had 
troubled  her  at  first,  but  now  she  felt  relieved.  'Lina 
had  stated  distinctly  that  ere  coming  to  Kentucky  he  was 
going  to  Terrace  Hill,  and  Adah's  last  letter  had  said  the 
same.  She  would  see  him  then,  and  —  if  he  were  George 
—  alas,  for  the  unsuspecting  girl  who  fluttered  gaily 
in  the  midst  of  her  bridal  finery,  and  wished  the  time 
would  come  when  "she  could  €ecape  from  that  hole,  and 
go  back  to  dear,  delightful  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel." 

The  time  which  hung  so  heavily  upon  her  hands  was 
flj'ing  rapidly,  and  at  last  only  a  week  intervened  ere  the 
eventful  day.  Hugh  had  gone  down  to  Frankfort  on  an 
errand  to  the  dressmaker's  for  'Lina,  and  finding  that  he 
must  wait  some  time,  it  occurred  to  him  tovisit  the  Peni- 
tentiary, where  he  had  not  been  for  a  long  time.  The 
keeper,  a  personal  friend  of  Hugh's,  expressed  much 
pleasure  at  meeting  him,  and  after  a  moment,  said  laugh- 

"  We  have  no  lions  to  show  just  now,  unless  it  be  Sul- 
van,  the  negro  stealer.  You  have  never  seen  him,  I  think, 
since  he  was  sent  to  us.  You  know  whom  I  mean,  the 
man  who  ran  dff  Uncle  Sam." 

Yes,  Hugh  knew,  but  he  was  not  especially  interested 


288  HUGH  WORTHIXGTON. 

in  him.     Still  he  followed  the  keeper,  who  said  that  Sul 
livan's  time  expired  in  a  faw  days. 

"  We'll  find  him  on  the  rope-walk,"  he  continued.  "We 
put  our  hardest  customers  there.  Not  that  he  gives  U8 
trouble,  for  he  does  not,  and  I  rather  like  the  chap,  but 
we  have  a  spite  against  these  Yankee  negro-stealers,"  and 
he  led  the  way  to  the  long  low  room,  where  groups  of 
m.u  walked  up  and  down  —  up  and  down  —  holding  the 
long  line  of  hemp,  which,  as  far  as  they  were  concerned, 
would  never  come  to  an  end  until  the  day  of  their  re- 
lease. 

"  That's  he,"  the  keeper  whispered  to  Hugh,  "  The  one 
with  that  mark  upon  his  forehead,"  and  he  pointed  to  one 
of  the  convicts  advancing  slowly  towards  them. 

With  a  start  and  a  shudder  Hugh  grew  cold  and  sick,, 
for  it  needed  but  a  glance  to  assure  him  that  he  stood  in 
the  presence  of  Adah's  guardian,  whose  sudden  disappear- 
ance had  been  so  mysterious.  Hugh  never  knew  how  he 
kept  himself  from  leaping  into  that  walk  and  compelling 
him  to  tell  if  he  knew  anything  of  Willie  Hastings'  fluher. 
He  did,  indeed,  take  one  forward  step,  but  the  next  mo- 
ment he  controlled  himself  as  he  remembered  where  he 
was,  and  knew  it  was  no  place  for  a  scene.  "  But  I  must 
see  him,"  he  thought,  "  I  must  talk  with  him  and  compel 
him  to  tell  me  what  he  knows  of  Adah  Hastings." 

Hastily  quitting  the  spot,  he  explained  to  the  keeper 
that  there  was  a  particular  reason  for  his  talking  with 
SuHivan,  and  asked  permission  to  do  so.  At  first  the 
keeper  hesitated,  but  finally  consented,  and  an  hour  later, 
when  the  convicts  left  their  work,  Hugh  Worthington 
WAS  confronting  the  fimous  negro-stealer,  who  gave  bin 
back  glance  for  glance,  and  stood  unflinchingly  before  him 
as  il'  there  were  upon  his  conscience  no  Adah  Hastings, 
who,  by  his  connivance,  had  been  so  terribly  wronged. 
At  the  mention  of  her  name,  however,  his  bold  assurance 
left  him.     There  was  a  quivering  of  the  muscles  about 


MATTERS    AT    SPRING    BANK.  ^89 

his  mouth,  a  humid  moisture  upon  his  eyelids,  and  his 
whole  manner  was  indicative  of  strong  emotion  as  he  ask- 
ed if  Hugh  knew  aught  of  her,  and  then  listened  while 
Hugh  told  what  he  knew,  and  where  she  had  gone. 

"  To  Terrace  Hill  — into  the  Richards  family,  this  wa« 
no  chance  arrangement,"  and  the  convict  spoke  huskily 
asking  next  for  the  doctor,  was  he  at  home  ?  had  he  met 
Adah  yet?  and  still  Hugh  .did  not  suspect  the  magnitude 
of  the  plot,  and  answered  by  telling  how  Dr.  Richards 
was  coming  soon  to  make  'Lin a  his  wife. 

Hugh  was  not  looking  at  his  companion  then,  or  he 
would  have  been  appalled  by  the  fearful  expression  which 
for  an  instant  flashed  on  his  face,  and  then  quickly  passed 
away,  leaving  there  a  look  of  terror  and  concern.  Accus- 
tomed to  conceal  his  feelings,  the  convict  did  so  now,  and 
asked  calmly  when  the  wedding  would  take  place. 
Hugh  named  the  day  and  hour,  and  then  asked  impatient- 
ly, if  Sullivan  knew  aught  of  Adah's  husband. 

"  Yes,  everything,"  and  the  convict  spoke  vehemently, 
for  he,  too,  saw  the  keeper  consult  his  watch,  and  knew 
that  he  must  hasten. 

"  Young  man,  I  cannot  tell  you  now  —  there  is  not  time 
but  wait  and  you  shall  know  the  whole.  You  are  inter- 
ested in  Adah.  You  have  been  kind  to  her.  You  never 
will  be  sorry.  The  wedding,  you  say,  is  Thursday  night. 
My  time  expires  on  Wednesday. 

"Don't  say  that  you  have  seen  me,  or  that  I  shall  be 
present  at  that  wedding.  I  shall  only  come  for  good,  but 
I  shall  surely  be  there." 

He  wrung  Hugh's  hand  and  went  to  his  lonely  cell,  while 
Hugh  turned  away,  haunted  by  some  presentiment  c^  evil, 
and  hearing  continually  the  words,  fraught  with  far  nioro 
meaning  than  he  supposed,  "  I  shall  surely  be  there." 
18 


wo.  HUGH    WORTH INGTOir. 

CHAPTER  XXXII. 

THE  DAY  OF  THE  WEDDING. 

:'  Dr.  Richards  had  arrived  at  Spring  Bank,  lie,  too,' 
had  been  detained  in  Cincinnati,  and  did  not  reach  his 
destination  until  late  on  Wednesday  evening.  Hugh  was 
the  first  to  meet  him,  for  Alice  had  retired,  and  'Lina  had 
fled  from  the  room  at  the  first  sound  of  the  voice  she  had 
been  so  anxiously  waiting  for.  For  a  moment  Hugh  scru- 
tinized the  stranger's  face  earnestly,  and  then  asked  if  they 
had  never  met  before. 

"  Not  to  my  knowledge,"  the  doctor  replied  in  perfect 
good  faith,  for  he  had  no  suspicion  that  the  man  eyeing 
him  so  closely  was  the  one  witness  of  his  marriage  with 
Adah,  the  stranger  whom  he  scarcely  noticed,  and  whose 
name  he  had  forgotten. 

Once  fully  in  the  light,  where  Hugh  could  discern  the 
features  plainer,  he  began  to  be  less  sure  of  having  met 
his  guest  before,  for  that  immense  mustache  and  those 
well-trimmed  whiskers,  had  changed  the  doctor's  physi- 
ognomy materially. 

'Lina  now  came  stealing  in,  affecting  such  a  pretty  coy- 
ness of  manner,  that  Hugh  felt  like  roaring  with  laughter 
and  ere  long  hurried  out  where  he  could  indulge  his  mer- 
riment. 

'Lina  was  glad  to  see  the  doctor.  She  had  even  cried 
.it  his  delay ;  and  though  no  one  knew  it,  had  sat  up  nearly 
Iho  whole  preceding  night,  waiting  and  listening  by  her 
oprn  window  for  any  sound  to  herald  his  approach,  and 
once  she  had  stolen  out  with  her  thin  slippers  into  the 
yard,  standiuG:  on  the  damp  ground  a  long  time,  and  only 
returning  to  the  house  when  she  felt  a  chill  creeping  over 
her,  and  knew  she  was  taking  cold. 

As  the  result  of  this  long  vigil,  her  head  ached  dread- 


THE    DAY    OF    THE    WEDDING,  201 

fully  the  next  day,  and  even  the  doctor  noticed  her  burn 
ing  che'eks  and  watery  eyes,  and  feeling  her  rapid  pulse 
asked  if  she  were  ill. 

She  was  not,  she  said;  she  had  only  been  troubled, 
because  he  did  not  come,  and  then  for  once  in  her  life  she 
did  a  womanly  act.  '  She  laid  her  head  in  the  doctor's  lap 
and  cried,  just  as  she  had  done  the  previous  night.  ]le 
understood  the  cause  of  her  tears  at  last,  and  touched  with 
a  greater  degree  of  tenderness  for  her  than  he  had  ever 
before  experienced,  he  smoothed  her  glossy  black  hair,  and 
asked, 
"  Would  you  be  very  sorry  to  lose  me  ?  " 
Selfish  and  hard  as  she  was,  'Lina  loved  the  doctor,  and 
with  a  shudder  as  she  thought  of  the  deception  imposed 
on  him,  and  a  half  regret  that  she  had  so  deceived  him, 
she  replied, 

"  I  am  not  worthy  of  you,  but  I  do  love  you  very  much, 
and  it  would  kill  me  to  lose  you  now.  Promise  that 
when  you  find,  as  you  will,  how  bad  I  am,  you  will  not 
hate  me ! " 

It  was  an  attempt  at  confession,  but  the  doctor  did  not 
so  construe  it.  Whatever  her  errors  were,  his,  he  knew, 
were  tenfold  greater,  and  so  he  continued  smoothing  her 
hair,  while  he  tried  to  say  the  words  of  affection  he  knew 
she  was  waiting  to  hear. 

It  was  very  dark  that  night,  and  the  doctor  received 
only  a  vague  idea  of  Spring  Bank  and  its  surroundings, 
and  that  did  not  impress  him  as  grandly  as  he  had  thought 
it  would.  But  then,  he  reflected  that  Southerners  wero 
not  as  noted  for  fine  houses  as  Northerners  were,  and  so 
felt  secure  as  yet,  wondering  which  of  the  negroes  he  bad 
een  belonged  to  'Lina,  and  which  to  Hugh.  He  knew 
Lulu  was  not  to  accompany  his  wife  to  Terrace  Hill,  for 
Xiua  had  told  him  so,  saying  that  in  the  present  state  of 
excited  feeling  she  did  not  think  it  best  to  take  a  negro 
slave  to  New  England.     He  knew,  too,  that  nothing  bad 


292  HUGH  TTORTHINGTON. 

been  said  about  money  or  lands  coming  to  him  with  his 
Dride,  but  he  took  it  all  on  trust,  and  looked  rathei 
complacently  around  the  prettily  furnished  chamber  to 
which,  at  a  late  hour,  he  was  conducted  by  Hugh. 

The  bright  sunlight  of  the  next  morning  was  very  ex- 
fciiarating,  and  though  the  doctor  was  disappointed  in 
Spring  Bank,  he  greeted  his  bride  elect  kindly,  noticing, 
whiio  he  did  so,  liow  her  cheeks  alternately  paled,  and 
then  grew  red,  while  she  seemed  to  be  chilly  an^l  cold. 
'Lina  had  passed  a  wretched  night,  tossing  from  side  to 
side,  bathing  her  throbbing  head  and  rubbing  her  aching 
limbs.  The  severe  cold  taken  in  the  wet  yard  was  making 
itself  visible,  and  she  came  to  the  breakfast-table  jaded 
wretched  and  sick,  a  striking  contrast  to  Alice  Johnson, 
who  seemed  to  the  doctor  more  beautiful  than  ever.  She 
was  unusually  gay  this  morning,  for  while  talking  to  Dr. 
Richards,  whom  she  had  met  in  the  parlor,  she  had,  among 
other  things  concerning  Snowdon,  said  to  him,  casually,  as 
it  seemed, 

"Anna  has  a  waiting-maid  at  last.  You  saw  her,  of 
course  ?  " 

Somehow  the  doctor  fancied  Alice  wished  him  to  say- 
yes,  and  as  a  falsehood  was  nothing  for  him,  he  replied  at 
once, 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  saw  her.     Her  little  boy  is  splendid." 

Alice  was  satisfied.  The  shadow  lifted  from  her  spirits. 
Dr.  Richards  was  not  George  Hastings.  He  was  not  the 
villain  she  had  feared,  and  'Lina  might  have  him  now. 
Poor  'Lina !  Alice  felt  almost  as  if  she  had  done  her  a 
\n  :)ng  by  suspecting  the  doctor,  and  was  very  kind  to  her 
that  day.  Poor  'Lina !  we  say  it  again,  for  hard,  and 
wicked,  and  treacherous,  and  unfilial,  as  she  had  ever  been, 
she  had  need  for  pity  on  this  her  wedding-day.  Retri- 
bution, terrible  and  crushing,  was  at  hand,  hurrying  on  in 
the  carriage  bringing  x\nna  Richards  to  Spring  Bank,  and 
on  the  fleet-footed  steed  b^aring  the  convict  swiftly  up 
the  Frankfort  'pike. 


THE  DAY  OF  THE  WEDDING.  293 

Restless  and  impatient  'Lina  wandered  from  room  to 
room,  stopping  longest  in  the  one  where  lay  the  bridal 
dress,  at  which  she  gazed  wistfully,  feeling  almost  as  if  it. 
were  her  shroud.  She  could  not  tell  what  ailed  her.  She 
only  knew  that  she  felt  wretchedly,  as  if  some  direful  ca- 
lamity were  about  to  overtake  her,  and  more  than  once 
her  eyes  filled  with  tears  as  she  wished  her  path  to  l)r 
Richards'  name  had  been  marked  with  no  deception. 
He  was  now  in  his  room,  and  it  was  almost  time  for  hei 
to  dress.  Lulu  might  begin  to  arrange  her  hair,  and  she 
called  her  just  as  the  mud-bespattered  vehicle  containing 
Anna  Richards  drove  up,  Mr.  Millbrook  having  purpose- 
ly stopped  in  Versailles,  thinking  it  better  that  Anna 
should  go  on  alone. 

It  was  Ellen  Tiffton,  who  was  to  come  early,  'Lina 
said,  and  so  the  dressing  continued,  and  she  was  all  un- 
suspicious of  the  scene  enacting  below,  in  the  room 
where  Anna  met  her  brother  alone.  She  had  not  given 
Hugh  her  name.  She  simply  asked  for  Dr.  Richards,  and 
conducting  her  into  the  parlor,  hung  with  bridal  decora- 
tions, Hugh  went  for  the  doctor,  saying,  "  a  lady  wished 
to  see  him." 

"A  lady!  Who  is  it?"  the  doctor  asked,  visions  of 
his  aggrieved  mother,  in  her  black  silk  velvet,  rising  be- 
fore his  mind.  "  What  could  a  lady  and  a  stranger  want 
of  him?" 

Mechanically  he  took  his  way  to  the  parlor,  while 
Hugh  resumed  his  seat  by  the  window,  where  for  the 
last  hour  he  had  watched  for  the  coming  of  one  who  had 
said,  "  I  will  be  there." 

Half  an  hour  later,  had  he  looked  into  the  parlor,  he 
would  have  seen  a  frightened,  white-faced  man,  crouch* 
ing  at  Anna  Richards'  side  and  whispering  to  her  as  if 
all  life,  all  strength,  all  power  to  act  for  himself,  were 
gone. 

"  What  must  I  do  ?     Tell  me  what  to  do." 

She  had  given  him  no  time  for  questioninxj,  but  hand 


294  HUGH   WORTHINGTON. 

mg  him  Arlah's  letter,  had  bidden  hio  read  it  througii, 
as  that  would  ex])lain  her  ])resence  at  Spring  Bank. 
One  glance  at  the  hand-writing,  and  the  doctor  turned 
white  as  marble.  "  Could  it  be  ?  Had  Lily  come  back 
to  life  ?  "  he  asked  himself,  and  then  eagerly,  rapidly,  he 
read  the  fiist  two  pages,  every  word  burning  into  his 
heart  and  bewildering  his  brain.  But  when  he  came  to 
the  line,  "7  am  Xt7y,  and  Willie  is  your  brother's  child,** 
sight  and  sense  seemed  failing  him,  and  tottering  to  his 
sister,  sternly  regarding  him,  he  gasped,  "  Oh,  Anna,  read 
for  me.  I  can't  see  any  more  —  it  runs  together,  and  I  — 
I'm  going  to  faint !  " 

"  iVo,  you  are  not.  You  must  not  faint ;  you  shall 
not,"  Anna  exclaimed,  shaking  him  energetically  and  ap- 
plying to  his  nostrils  the  bottle  of  strong  hartshorn  she 
had  procured  in  Versailles  for  just  such  an  emergency  as 
this. 

The  odor  half  strangled  him,  but  Anna's  object  was  at- 
tained. He  did  not  faint,  but  sat  like  an  idiotic  thing, 
listening  while  she  read  the  letter  through,  and  demanded 
if  it  were  true.  Was  it  Adah  Gordon  whom  he  desert- 
ed, and  was  it  a  mock  marriage  ?  She  would  have  the 
truth,  and  he  had  no  desire  to  conceal  it. 

"  Yes,  true  —  all  true  —  but  I  thought  she  was  dead. 
I  did,  Anna.  Oh,  Lily,  w^here  is  she  now  ?  I'm  going 
to " 

"  Sit  down,"  Anna  said,  imperatively ;  and  with  all  the 
nir  of  an  imbecile  he  crouched  at  her  feet,  asking  what 
hi!  should  do. 

This  was  a  puzzle  to  Anna,  and  she  replied  by  asking 
Lim  another  question.  "Do  you  love  'Lina  Worthing 
ton  ?  " 

"I  —  I  — no,  I  guess  I  don't ;  but  she's  rich,  and ** 

With  a  motion  of  disgust  Anna  cut  him  short,  saying, 
"Don't  make  me  despise  you  more  than  I  do.  Until 
your  lijjs  confessed  it,  I  had  faith  that  Lily  was  mistaken, 


THE  DAY  OF  THE  WEDDmG.  296 

that  your  Qiarriage  was  honorable,  at  least,  even  if  you 
tiretl  of  it  afterward.  You  are  worse  than  I  supposed^ 
and  now  you  speak  of  money.  What  shall  you  do  ?  Get 
up,  and  not  sit  whining  at  my  feet  like  a  puppy.  Find 
Lily,  of  course,  and  if  she  will  stoop  to  listen  a  second 
lime  to  your  suit,  make  her  your  wife,  working  to  sup- 
port her  until  your  hands  are  blistered,  if  need  be." 

Anna  hardly  knew  herself  in  this  phase  'jf  her  chapao 
tor,  and  her  brother  certainly  did  not. 

"  Don't  be  hard  on  me,  Anna,"  he  said,  "  I'll  do  what 
you  say,  only  don't  be  hard.  It's  come  so  sudden,  that 
my  head  is  like  a  whirlpool.  Lily,  Willie,  Willie.  The 
child  I  saw,  you  mean  —  yes,  the  child  —  I  —  saw  —  did 
it  say  he  —  was  — my  — boy  ?  " 

The  words  were  thick  and  far  apart.  The  head  droop- 
ed lower  and  lower,  the  color  all  left  the  lips,  and  in  spite 
of  Anna's  vigorous  shakes,  or  still  more,  vigorous  harts, 
horn,  overtaxed  nature  gave  way,  and  the  doctor  fainted 
at  last.  It  was  Anna's  turn  now  to  wonder  what  she 
should  do,  and  she  was  about  summoning  aid  from  some 
quarter  when  the  door  opened  suddenly,  and  Hugh  ush- 
ered in  a  stranger  —  the  convict,  who  had  kept  his  word^ 
and  came  to  tell  what  he  knew  of  this  complicated  mys- 
tery. No  one  had  seen  him  as  he  entered  the  house  but 
Hugh,  who  was  expecting  him,  and  who,  in  reply  to  his 
inquiiies  for  the  doctor,  told  where  he  was,  and  that  a 
stranger  was  with  him.  There  was  a  low,  hunied  conver- 
sation between  the  two,  a  partial  revelation  of  the  busi- 
ness which  had  brought  Sullivan  there,  and  at  its  close 
Hugh's  face  was  deadly  white,  for  he  knew  now  that  he 
had  met  Dr.  Richards  before,  and  that  'Lina  could  not  he 
his  wife. 

"  The  villain ! "  he  muttered,  involuntarily  clenching  his 
fist  as  if  to  smite  the  dastard  as  he  followed  Sullivan  into 
the  parlor,  starting  back  when  he  saw  the  prostrate  form 
upon  the  floor,  and  heard  the  lady  say,  "My  brother,  sir, 
has  fainted." 


296  HUGH  WORTHXNGTON. 

She  was  Anna,  then  ;  and  Hugh  guessed  lightly  why 
hhe  was  there. 

"  Madame,"  he  began,  but  ere  another  word  was  uttered 
there  fell  upon  his  ear  a  shriek  which  seemed  to  cleave  the 
very  air  and  made  even  the  fainting  man  move  in  his  uu 
consciousness. 

It  was  Mrs.  Worthington  who,  with  hands  outstretched, 
as  if  to  keep  him  off,  stood  upon  the  threshold,  gazing  in 
mute  terror  at  the  horror  of  her  life,  whispering  incoher- 
ently, "  What  is  it,  Hugh  ?  How  came  he  here  ?  Save 
me,  save  me  from  him  !  " 

"  A  look,  half  of  sorrow,  half  of  contempt,  flitted  across 
the  stranger's  face  as  he  answered  for  Hugh  kindly,  gently, 
*'Is  the  very  sight  of  me  so  terrible  to  you,  Eliza?  Be- 
lieve me,  you  have  nothing  to  fear.  I  am  only  here  to 
set  matters  right  —  to  make  amends  for  the  past,  so  far  as 
possible.     Here  for  our  daughter's  sake." 

He  had  drawn  nearer  to  her  as  he  said  this  last,  but  she 
intuitively  turned  to  Hugh,  who  started  suddenly,  gi'ow- 
ing  white  and  faint  as  a  suspicion  of  the  truth  flashed  up- 
on him. 

"  Mother  ?  "  he  began,  interrogatively,  winding  his  arm 
about  her,  for  she  was  the  weaker  of  the  two. 

She  knew  what  he  would  ask,  and  with  her  eye  still  upon 
the  man  who  fascinated  her  gaze,  she  answered,  sadly, 
"  Forgive  me,  Hugh,  I  thought  he  was  dead.  The  paper 
said  so,  with  all  the  particulars.  Forgive  me.  He  was 
—  my  husband;  he  is  —  'Lina's  father,  not  yours,  Hugl., 
oh.  Heaven  be  praised,  not  yours  !  "  and  she  clung  closely 
to  her  boy,  as  if  glad  one  child,  at  least,  was  not  tainted 
with  the  Murdoch  blood. 

The  convict  smiled  bitterly,  and  said  to  Hugh  himself, 
"  Your  mother  is  right.     She  was  once  my  wife,  but  the 
law  set  her  free  from  the  galling  chain.     I  have  had  ^ 
variety  of  names  in  my  life ;  so  many,  indeed,  that  I  hard- 
ly knew  which  is  my  real  one. 


THE    DAY    OF    THE    WEDDING. 


297 


He  w  as  perfectly  cool,  but  his  face  showed  the  effort  it 
was  to  be  so,  while  his  black  eyes  rolled  restlessly  from 
one  object  to  another,  and  he  was  about  to  speak  again 
when  Alice  came  tripping  down  the  stairs,  and  pausing  at 
the  parlor  door,  looked  in. 

"  Anna  Richards! "  she  exclaimed,  but  uttered  no  othof 
BDund  for  the  terror  of  something  terrible,  which  kept  her 
silent. 

It  was  no  ordinary  matter  which  had  brought  that  group 
together,  and  she  stood  looking  from  one  to  the  other, 
until  the  convict  said, 

"  Young  lady,  you  cannot  be  the  bride,  but  will  you 
call  her,  tell  her  she  is  wanted." 

Alice  never  knew  what  she  said  to  'Lina.  She  was  only 
conscious  of  following  her  down  the  stairs  and  into  that 
dreadful  room.  Sullivan  was  watching  for  her,  and  the 
muscles  about  his  mouth  twitched  convulsively,  w^hile  a 
shadow  of  mingled  pity  and  tenderness  swept  over  his 
features  as  his  eye  fell  on  the  girlish  figure  behind  her, 
'Lina,  with  the  orange  blossoms  in  her  hair  —  'Lina  almost 
ready  for  the  bridal ! 

For  an  instant  the  convict  regarded  her  intently,  and 
there  was  something  in  his  glance  which  brought  Hugh 
at  once  to  'Lina,  where,  with  his  arm  upon  her  chair,  he 
stood  as  if  he  would  protect  her.  Noble  Hugh  !  'Lina 
never  knew  one-half  how  good  and  generous  he  was  until 
just  as  she  was  losing  him. 

Dr.  Richards  was  restored  by  this  time,  and  looked  on 
those  around  him  in  utter  astonishment ;  on  Mrs.  Wor- 
thington  crouched  in  the  farthest  coi-ner,  her  face  as  wliit-c 
Bs  ashes,  and  her  eyes  riveted  upon  the  figure  of  tne  man 
standing  in  the  center  of  the  room  ;  on  'Lina,  terrified 
at  what  she  saw  ;  on  Anna,  more  perplexed,  more  astonish- 
ed than  himself,  and  on  Hugh,  towering  up  so  coramanding- 
ly  above  the  whole,  and  demanding  of  the  convict  th« 
explanation  which  he  had  come  to  make. 
13* 


298  HUGH    WORTIIINGTON. 

There  was  a  moment's  hesitancy,  and  his  face  flushed 
and  paled  alternately  ere  the  convict  could  summon  cour- 
age to  begin. 

"  Take  this  seat,  sir,  you  need  it,"  Hugh  said,  bringing 
him  a  chair  and  then  resuming  his  watch  over  'Lina,  who 
bwoluntarily  leaned  her  throbbing  head  upon  his  aim, 
and  with  the  others  listened  to  that  stranoje  tale  of  sin. 


CHAPTER  XXXHI. 

THE    convict's    STOBY. 

^  It  is  not  an  easy  task  to  confess  how  bad  one  has  been," 
t\se  stranger  said,  "and  once  no  power  could  have  tempt- 
ed me  to  do  it ;  but  several  years  of  pnson  life  have 
taught  rae  some  wholesome  lessons,  and  I  am  not  the  same 
man  I  was  when  I  met  you,  Eliza,  (bowing  to  Mrs. 
Worihington)  and  won  your  hand  if  not  your  heart. 
But  ]>revious  to  that  time  there  was  a  passage  of  my  life 
which  I  must  now  repeat.  At  iny  boarding  house  in 
New  York  there  was  a  young  girl,  a  chamber-maid,  whom 
I  deceived  with  promises  of  marriage  and  then  deserted, 
just  when-  she  needed  me  the  most.  I  had  found  new 
prey,  was  on  the  eve  of  marriage  with  Mrs.  Eliza  Worth 
ington.     I  —  " 

The  story  was  interrupted  at  this  point  by  a  cry  from 
*Jiina,  who  moaned, 

"  No,  no,  oh  no !  He  is  not  my  father ;  is  he,  Hugh  ? 
'i'ell  me  no.  John,  Dr.  Richards,  pray  look  at  me  and 
say  it's  all  a  dream,  a  dreadful  dream  !  Oh,  Hugh  !  "  and 
to  the  brother,  scorned  so  often,  poor  'Lina  turned  for 
sympathy,  while  the  stranger  continued, 

"  It  would  be  useless  for  me  to  say  now  that  I  loved 
the  girl,  for  I  did  not ;  but  I  felt  sorry  for  her,  and  wheo 


THE    D  lY    OF    THE    WEDDING.  299 

Pix  mouths  after  my  marriage  I  heard  that  I  was  a  father 
I  feigned  an  excuse  and  left  my  wife  for  a  few  weeks 
Eliza,  you  remember  I  said  I  had  business  in  New  York, 
and  so  I  had.  I  went  to  tliis  young  girl,  finding  her  in  a 
low,  wretched  garret,  w'ith  her  baby  in  her  arms,  and  a 
look  on  her  face  which  told  me  she  had  not  long  to  live. 
I  staid  by  her  till  she  died,  promising  to  care  for  her 
child  and  mine.  I  had  a  mother  then,  a  woman,  old  and 
infirm,  and  good,  even  if  I  vTas  her  son.  To  her  I  went 
in  my  trouble,  asking  that  she  would  care  for  the  help- 
less thing  to  which  I  gave  the  name  Matilda.  Mother 
did  not  refuse,  and  leaving  the  baby  in  her  charge  I  came 
back  to  my  lawful  wife. 

"  In  course  of  time  there  was  a  daughter  bom  to  me 
and  to  Eliza ;  a  sweet  brown-haired,  brown-eyed  girl, 
whom  w^e  named  Adaliner 

Instinctively,  every  one  in  that  room  glanced  at  the 
black  eyes  and  hair  of  'Lina,  marvelling  at  the  change. 

"  I  loved  this  little  girl,  as  it  was  natural  I  should, 
more  than  I  loved  the  other,  and  after  she  was  born  I 
tried  to  be  a  better  man,  but  could  not  hold  out  long, 
and  at  last  there  came  a  separation.  Eliza  would  not 
live  with  me  and  I  went  away,  but  pined  so  for  my  child, 
that  I  contrived  to  steal  her,  and  carried  her  to  my  moth- 
er, where  was  the  other  one." 

'Lina's  eyes  were  dark  as  midnight,  while  she  listened 
breathlessly  to  this  mysterious  page  of  her  existence. 

"  My  mother  was  very  old  and  she  died  suddenly,  leav- 
ing me  alone  with  my  two  girls.  I  could  not  attend  to 
them  both,  and  so  I  sent  one  to  Eliza,  and  kept  the  oth- 
ei'  myself,  hiring  a  housekeeper,  and  because  it  suited  my 
fancy,  passing  as  Mr.  Redfield,  guardian  to  the  little  child, 
whom  I  loved  so  much." 

"  That  was  Adah,'''  fell  in  a  whisper  from  the  doctor's 
lips,  but  caught  the  ear  of  no  one. 

All  were  too  intent  upon  the  story,  which  proceeded; 


300  HUGH    AVORTHINGTON. 

"  She  grc  w  in  beauty,  and  I  was  wondrou8  proud  of 
her,  giving  her  every  advantage  in  ray  power.  I  sent  her 
to  the  best  of  schools,  and  even  looked  forward  to  the  day 
when  she  should  take  the  position  she  was  so  well  fitted 
to  till.  After  she  was  grown  to  girlhood  \re  boarded,  she 
as  the  ward,  I  as  the  guardian  still,  and  then  one  unlucky 
d  ly  I  stumbled  upon  you,  Dr.  John,  but  not  until  yoT  first 
iiad  stumbled  on  my  daughter,  and  been  charmed  with 
lier  beauty,  passing  yourself  as  —  as  George  Hastings, 
—  lest  your  fiishionable  associates  should  know  how  the 
aristocratic  Dr.  Richards  was  in  love  with  a  poor,  unknowu 
orphan,  boarding  up  two  flights  of  stairs." 

"  Who  is  he  talking  about,  Hugh  ?  Does  he  mean  me  ? 
My  head  throbs  so,  I  don't  quite  understand,"  'Lina  said 
piteously,  while  Hugh  held  the  poor  aching  head  against 
his  bosom,  crushing  the  orange  blossoms,  and  whispering 
softly, 

"  He  means  Adah." 

"Yes,  Adah,"  the  convict  rejoined.  "John  Richards 
fancied  Adah  Gordon,  as  she  was  called,  but  loved  his 
pride  and  position  more.  I'll  do  you  justice,  though, 
young  man,  I  believe  at  one  time  you  really  and  truly 
loved  my  child,  and  but  for  your  mother's  letters  might  have 
married  her  honorably.  But  you  were  afraid  of  that 
mother.  Your  pride  was  stronger  than  your  love ;  but  I 
was  determined  that  you  should  have  my  daughter,  and 
proposed  a  mock  maniage " 

"  Monster !  Tow,  her  father,  planned  that  fiendish  act ! " 
and  Alice's  blue  eyes  flashed  indignantly  upon  him,  while 
Hugh,  forgetting  that  the  idea  was  not  new  to  him,  walked 
np  before  the  "  monster,"  as  if  to  lay  him  at  his  feet. 

"Listen,  while  I  explain,  and  you  will  sec  the  monster 
had  an  object."  returned  the  stranger,  speaking  to  Alice, 
instead  of  Plugh.  "It  was  the  great  wish  of  my  heart  that 
my  daughter  should  marry  into  a  good  family, —  one  which 
would  give  her  position,  and  when  I  saw  how  much  John 


THE  DAr  OF  THE  WEDDING.  301 

Richard's  was  pleased  with  her,  I  said  he  should  be  heif 
husband,  for  the  Richards  were  known  to  me  by  rcp^ita- 
tion. 

Froci  what  I  knew  of  John  I  thought  he  would  hardly 
daie  marry  my  daughter  outright,  and  sol  cautiously  sug- 
gested a  mock-marriage,  saying,  by  way  of  excusing  my 
Bcl^  that  as  I  was  only  Adah's  guardian,  T  could  not  ^eel 
towards  her  as  a  near  relative  would  feel,  —  that,  as  1  had 
already  expended  large  sums  of  money  on  her,  I  was  get- 
ting tired  of  it,  and  would  be  glad  to  be  released,  hinting, 
by  way  of  smoothing  the  fiendish  proposition,  my  belief 
that,  fi'om  constant  association,  he  would  come  to  love  her 
so  much  that  at  last  he  would  really  and  truly  make  her  his 
wife.  He  seemed  shocked,  and  if  I  remember  rightly,  call- 
ed me  a  brute,  and  all  that ;  but  little  by  little  I  gained 
ground,  until  at  last  he  consented,  stipulating  that  she 
should  not  know  his  real  name,  which  he  knew  I  had  dis- 
covered. It  seems  strange  that  a  father  should  wish  his 
child  to  marry  one  who  would  consent  to  act  so  base  a 
part,  but  I  knew  there  was  nothing  unkind  in  the  doctor's 
nature,  and  I  trusted  that  his  fondness  for  Adah  and  her 
influence  over  him  would  bring  it  right  at  last. 

"I  had  an  acquaintance,  1  said,  who  lived  a  few  niiles  from 
the  city,  —  a  man  who,  for  money,  would  do  anything,  "ud 
who,  as  a  feigned  justice  of  the  peace,  would  go  through 
with  the  ceremony,  and  ever  after  keep  his  own  counsel. 
I  wonder  the  doctor  himself  did  not  make  some  inquiries 
concerning  this  so-called  justice,  but  I  think  he  is  not 
remarkably  clear-headed,  and  this  weakness  saved  me 
much  trouble.  After  a  time  I  arranged  the  matter  with  my 
friend,  who  was  a  lawful  justice,  staying  at  the  house  of 
his  brother,  then  absent  in  Europe.  This  being  done,  1 
decided  upon  Hugh  Worthington^  for  a  witness,  as  being 
the  person  of  all  the  world,  who  should  be  present  at  the 
bridal.  He  had  recently  come  to  New  York,  and  I  had  ac- 
cidentally made  his  acquaintance,  acquiring  so  strong  an 


802  HUGH  WOBTHINGTON. 

influence  over  him  that  when  I  invited  him  to  the  wed- 
ding  of  my  ward^  h.e  went  unsuspectingly,  signing  hia 
name  as  witness  and  s.<Suting  the  bride,  who  really  was  a 
bride,  as  lawful  a  one  as  any  who  ever  turned  from  the  al- 
tar where  she  had  registered  her  vows." 

•  Oh,  joy,  joy !  "  and  Alice  sprang  at  once  to  her  feet, 
and  hastening  to  the  doctor's  side,  said  to  him,  authorita^ 
lively : 

"You  hear,  you  understand,  Adah  is  your  wife,  your 
very  own,  and  you  must  go  back  to  her  at  once.  You  do 
understand  me  ? "  and  Alice  grew  very  earnest  as  the 
doctor  failed  to  rouse  up,  as  she  thought  he  ought  to  do. 

Appealing  next  to  Anna,  she  continued  : 

"  Pray,  make  him  comprehend  that  his  wife  is  at  Ter- 
race Hill." 

Very  gently  Anna  answered  : 

"  She  was  there,  but  she  has  gone.  He  knows  it ;  I 
came  to  tell  him,  but  she  fled  immediately  after  recog- 
nizing my  brother,  and  left  a  letter  revealing  the  whole.*' 

It  had  come  to  'Lin a  by  this  time  that  Dr.  Richards 
could  never  be  her  husband,  and  with  a  bitter  cry,  she 
covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  and  went  shivering  to 
the  corner  where  Mrs.  Worthington  sat,  as  if  a  mother's 
sympathy  were  needed  now,  and  coveted  as  it  had  never 
been  before. 

"Oh,  mother,"  she  sobbed,  laying  her  head  in  Mrs* 
Worthington's  lap,  "  I  wish  I  had  never  been  born." 

Sadly  her  wail  of  disaj^pointmeut  rang  through  the 
room,  and  then  the  convict  went  on  with  his  interrupted 
Darrative. 

"  When  the  maiTiage  was  over,  Mr.  Hastings  took  hia 
wife  to  another  part  of  the  city,  hiding  ht;r  from  his  fash- 
ionable associates,  staying  with  her  most  of  the  time,  and 
ap|>earing  to  love  her  so  much  that  I  thought  it  would  not 
be  long  before  I  should  venture  to  tell  him  the  truth.  It 
would  be  better  to  waite  it,  I  thought,  and  so  I  left  her 


THE    DAY    OF    THK    WEDDING.  303 

With  hiiu  while  I  went  South  on  —  the  very  /au^  fable 
business  of  stealing  negroes  from  one  State  and  selling 
them  in  another.  At  Cincinnati,  1  wrote  to  the  doctor, 
confessing  the  whole,  but  it  seems  my  letter  never  reached 
liim,  for,  though  I  did  not  know  it  then,  the  car  contain- 
ing that  mail  was  burned,  and  ray  letter  was  burned 
with  it.  Some  of  you  know  that  I  was  caught  in  my 
tiaffic,  and  that  the  negro  stealer,  Sullivan,  was  safely 
lodged  in  prison,  from  which  he  was  released  but  a  day 
since.  Fearing  there  might  be  some  mistake,  I  wrote  from 
my  prison  home  to  Adah  hereelf,  but  suppose  it  did  not 
reach  New  York  till  after  she  had  left  it." 

A  casual  observer  would  have  said  that  Mrs.  Worthing- 
ton  had  heard  less  of  that  strange  story  than  any  one  else, 
so  motionless  she  sat,  but  not  a  word  was  missed  by  her  in 
the  entire  narrative,  and  when  the  narrator  concluded, 
she  said  anxiously, 

"  And  that  child,  the  lawful  wife  of  this  young  man,  was 
she  mine,  or  was  she  the  servant  girl's?  " 

A  little  apart  from  the  others,  his  arms  folded  tightly 
together,  and  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  convict,  stood 
Hugh. 

"Answer  her,"  he  said,  gravely,  as  the  convict  did  not 

reply.     "Tell    her  if  Adah  be  her  child,  or, 'Una, 

which?" 

Had  a  clap  of  thunder  cleft  the  air  around  her,  'Lina 
could  not  have  started  up  sooner  than  she  did.  It  was 
the  very  first  suspicion  which  had  crossed  her  brain,  and 
her  life  seemed  dying  out,  as  halfway  between  Mrs.  Wor- 
thington  and  the  convict  she  stood  with  hands  outstretch- 
ed and  Hvid  lips,  which  tried  to  speak,  but  could  only 
moan  convulsively.  The  convict  took  his  eyes  away  from 
her,  pitying  her  so  much,  as  he  said,  «  Adah  is  my  lawful 
child.  I  kept  her,  and  sent  the  other  back.  It  was  a  bold 
act,  and  I  wonder  it  was  not  questioned,  but  Adaline's  eyei 
were  not  so  black  then  as  they  are  now,  and  though  five 


304  HUGH    WORTHINGTON. 

months  older  than  the  other,  she  was  small  for  her  age, 
and  two  years  sometimes  change  a  child  materially ;  so 
Eliza  took  it  for  granted  that  the  girl  she  received  as 
Adaline,  and  whose  real  name  was  Matilda,  was  her  own  ; 
but  Adah  Hastings  is  her  daughter  and  Hugh's  half-sister 
while  this  young  woman  is  —  the  child  of  myself  and  the 
B'jrvant  girl. 

Alice,  Anna,  and  the  doctor  looked  aghast,  while  Mrs. 
Worthington  murmured  audibly,  "  Adah,  darling  Adah, 
and  Willie,  precious  Willie  —  oh,  I  want  them  here 
now ! " 

The  mother  had  claimed  her  own,  but  alas,  the  fond 
cry  of  welcome  to  sweet  Adah  Hastings  was  a  death  ktiell 
to  'Lina,  for  it  seemed  to  shut  her  out  of  that  gentle  wo- 
man's heart.  There  was  no  place  for  her,  and  in  her  terri- 
ble desolation  she  stood  alone,  her  eyes  wandering  wist- 
fully from  one  to  another,  but  turning  very  quickly  when 
they  fell  on  the  convict,  her  fjither.  Slie  would  not  have 
it  so ;  she  could  not  own  a  servant  for  her  mother,  that 
villain  for  her  father,  and  worse  —  oh,  infinitely  worse 
than  all  —  she  had  no  right  to  be  born !  A  child  of  sin 
and  shame,  disgraced,  disowned,  forsaken.  It  was  a  terri- 
ble blow,  and  the  proud  girl  staggered  beneath  it. 

"Will  no  one  speak  to  me  ?"  she  said,  at  last;  "no  one 
break  this  dreadful  silence  ?  Has  everybody  forsaken  me  ? 
Do  you  all  loathe  and  hate  the  offspring  of  such  parents  ? 
Won't  somebody  pity  and  care  for  me  ?  " 

"  Yes^  'Lina,''  and  Hugh  — the  one  from  whom  she  hal 
the  least  right  to  expect  pity  —  Hugh  came  to  her  side  . 
and  winding  his  arm  around  her,  said,  with  a  choking 
voi.;e,  "J  will  not  forsake  you,  'Lina;  I  will  care  for  you 
he  same  as  ever,  and  so  long  as  I  have  a  home  you  shall 
have  one  too." 

"  Oh,  Hugh,  I  don't  deserve  this  from  you  !  "  was  'Lina'a 
faint  response,  as  she  laid  her  head  upon  his  bosom,  whis- 
pering, «  Take  me  away  —  from  them  all  —  up  stairs  —  on 
the  bed  !     I  am  so  sick,  and  my  head  is  bursting  open  ! " 


THE    DAT    OF    THE    WEDDING.  305 

Hugh  was  strong  as  a  young  giant,  and  lifting  gently 
the  yielding  form,  he  bore  it  from  the  room  —  the  bridal 
room,  which  she  would  never  enter  again,  until  he  brought 
her  back  —  and  laid  her  softly  down  beneath  the  win 
dows,  dropping  tears  upon  her  white,  still  face,  and  whis- 
pering, 

"  Poor  'Lina !  " 

As  Hugh  passed  out  with  his  burden  in  his  arras,  the 
bewildered  company  seemed  to  rally ;  but  the  convict  was 
the  first  to  act.  Turning  to  Mrs.  Worthington,  still  shiv- 
ering in  the  corner,  he  said, 

"  Eliza,  you  see  I  did  not  die  as  that  paper  told  yoiii 
but  it  suited  me  then  to  be  dead^  and  so  I  wrote  the  par 
agraph  myself,  sending  you  the  paper.  For  this  you 
should  thank  me,  as  it  made  a  few  years  of  your  life  hap- 
pier, thinking  I  was  dead.  I  have  come  here  to  night  for 
my  children's  sake  ;  and  now  that  I  have  done  what  I 
came  to  do,  I  shall  leave  you,  only  asking  that  you  con- 
tinue to  be  a  mother  to  the  poor  girl  who  is  really  the 
only  sufferer.  The  rest  have  cause  for  joy ;  you  in  par. 
ticular,"  tuining  to  the  doctor.  " But  tell  me  again  what 
was  that  I  heard  of  Adah's  having  fled  ?  " 

Anna  repeated  the  story,  and  then  conquering  her  re- 
pugnance of  the  man,  asked  if  he  would  not  immediately 
seek  for  her  and  bring  her  back  if  possible. 

*'  My  brother  will  help  you,"  she  said,  "  when  he  recovers 
himself,"  and  she  turned  to  the  doctor,  who  suddenly  seem- 
ed to  break  the  spell  which  had  bound  him,  and  springing 
to  his  feet,  exclaimed, 

^  Yes,  Lily  shall  be  found,  but  I  must  see  my  boy  first 
Anna,  can't  we  go  now,  to-night  ?  " 

Tliat  was  impossible  ;  Anna  was  too  tired,  Alice  said, 
and  conducting  her  to  her  own  room,  she  made  her  take 
the  rest  she  so  much  needed. 

When  Alice  returned  again  to  the  parlor,  the  convict 
had  gone.    There  had  been  a  short  consultation  between 


306  HUGH   WOETHINGTON. 

himself  and  the  doctor,  an  engagement  to  meet  in  Cincin- 
nati to  arrange  their  phiu  of  search  ;  and  then  he  had  turn- 
ed again  to  his  once  wife,  still  sitting  in  her  corner,  mo- 
tionless, white,  and  paralyzed  with  nervous  terror. 

«  You  need  not  fear  me,  Eliza,"  he  said,  kindly ;  "  I  shall 
probably  never  trouble  you  again  ;  and  though  you  have 
no  cause  to  believe  my  word,  I  tell  you  solemnly  that  I 
will  never  rest  until  I  have  found  our  daughter,  and  sent 
her  back  to  you.     Good-bye,  Eliza,  good-bye." 

He  did  not  offer  her  his  hand  ;  he  knew  she  would  not 
touch  it ;  but  wdth  one  farewell  look  of  contrition  and  re- 
gret, he  left  her,  and  mounting  the  horse  which  had  brought 
him  there,  dashed  away  from  Spring  Bank,  just  as  Colo- 
nel Tiffton  reined  up  to  the  gate. 

It  was  Alice  who  met  him  in  the  hall,  explaining  to 
him  as  much  as  she  thought  necessary,  and  asking  him,  on 
his  return,  to  wait  a  little  by  the  field  gate,  and  turn  back 
other  oruests  who  misjht  be  on  the  road. 

The  Colonel  promised  compliance  with  her  request,  and 
as  only  a  few  had  been  invited,  it  was  hot  a  hard  task  im- 
posed upon  him.  'Lina  had  been  taken  very  sick,  was  all 
the  excuse  the  discreet  Colonel  would  give  to  the  people, 
who  rather  reluctantly  turned  their  faces  homeward,  so 
that  Spring  Bank  was  not  honored  with  wedding  guests 
that  night ;  and  when  the  clock  struck  eight,  the  appoint- 
ed hour  for  the  bridal,  only  the  bridegroom  sat  in  the 
dreary  parlor,  his  head  bent  down  upon  the  sofa  arm,  and 
his  chest  heaving  with  the  sobs  he  could  not  repress  as  he 
thought  of  all  poor  Lily  had  suffered  since  he  left  her  so 
cruelly.  Hugh  had  told  him  what  he  did  not  understand 
before.  He  had  come  into  the  room  for  his  mother,  whom 
'Lina  was  pleading  to  see ;  and  after  leading  her  to  the 
chamber  of  the  half-delirious  girl,  he  had  returned  to  the 
doctor,  and  related  to  him  all  he  knew  of  Adah,  dwelling 
long  upon  her  gentleness  and  beauty,  which  had  won  from 
him  a  brother's  love,  even  though  he  knew  not  she  waa 
his  sister. 


THE  DAY  OF  THE  WEDDING. 


307 


"  1  was  a  wretch,  a  villain  \ "  the  doctor  gi  oaned.  Then 
ookiug  wistfully  at  Hugh,  he  said,  "Do  you  think  she 
loves  me  still  ?  Listen  to  what  she  says  in  her  airewell 
to  Anna,"  and  with  faltering  voice,  he  read  :  «  That  killed 
the  love  ;  and  now,  if  I  could,  I  would  not  be  his  except 
for  Willie's  sake."     Do  you  think  she  meant  it  ?  " 

«I  have  no  doubt  of  it,  sir.  How  could  her  love  ou**  • 
.ive  everything  ?  Curses  and  blows  might  not  have  ki.'Jed 
it,  but  when  you  thought  to  ruin  her  good  name,  to  deriy 
your  child,  she  would  be  less  than  woman  could  she  for- 
give. Why,  I  hate  and  despise  you  myself  for  the  wrong 
you  have  done  my  sister;'  and  Hugh's  tall  form  seemed 
to  take  on  an  increased  height  as  he  abruptly  left  the 
room,  lest  his  hot  temper  should  get  the  mastery,  and  he 
knock  down  his  dastardly  brother-in-law. 

It  w^as  a  sad  house  at  Spring  Bank  that  night,  where 
'Lina  lay,  tossing  distractedly  from  side  to  side ;  now 
holding  her  throbbing  head,  and  now  thrusting  out  her 
hot,  dry  hands,  as  if  to  keep  off  some  fancied  form,  who 
claimed  to  be  her  mother. 

The  shock  had  been  a  terrible  one  to  'Lina.  She  did 
love  Dr.  Richards ;  and  the  losing  him  was  enough  of  it- 
self to  drive  her  mad  ;  but  worse  even  than  this,  and  far 
more  humiliating  to  her  pride,  was  the  discovery  of  her 
parentage,  the  knowing  that  a  convict  was  her  father,  a 
common  servant  her  mother,  and  that  no  marriage  tie  had 
hallowed  her  birth. 

«  Oh,  I  can't  bear  it !  "  she  cried.  «  I  can't.  I  wish  I 
might  die!     Will  nobody  kill  me?     Hugh,  you   will,  I 

know ! " 

But  Hugn  was  awayforthefamily  physician,  for  he  would 
not  trust  a  gossipping  servant  to  do  the  errand.  Onoe  be 
fore  that  doctor  had  stood  by  'Lina's  bedside,  and  felt  her 
feverish  i)ulse,  but  his  face  then  was  not  as  anxious  as  now, 
when  he  counted  the  rapidly  increasing  beats,  and  saw 
how  fast  the  fever  came  on.     There  had  been  an  expos- 


308  HUGH   WORTHINGTON. 

are  to  cold,  he  said,  sufficient  of  itself  to  induce  a  fever,  but 
the  whole  had  been  aggravated  a  hundred-fold  by  the  late 
disastrous  affair,  of  which  Hugh  had  told  him  something. 
He  did  not  speak  of  danger,  but  Hugh,  w.io  watched 
him  narrowly,  read  it  in  his  face,  and  following  him  down 
the  stairs,  asked  to  be  told  the  truth. 

"  She  is  going  to  be  very  sick.  She  may  get  well,  bat 
I  have  little  to  hope  from  symptoms  like  hers." 

That  was  the  doctor's  reply,  and  with  a  sigh  Hugh 
went  back  to  the  sick  girl,  who  had  given  him  little  else 
than  sarcasm  and  scorn. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 


Drearily  the  morning  dawned,  but  there  were  no  bridal 
filumbers  to  be  broken,  no  bridal  fiirewells  said.  There 
were  indeed  good-byes  to  be  spoken,  for  Anna  was  impa- 
tient to  be  gone,  and  at  an  early  hour  she  was  ready  to 
leave  the  house  she  had  entered  under  so  unpleasant  cir- 
cumstances. 

"  I  would  like  to  see  'Lina,"  she  said  to  Alice,  who  car- 
ried the  request  to  the  sick  room. 

But  'Lina  refused.  "  I  can't,"  she  said  ;  "  she  hates,  she 
despises  me,  and  she  had  reason.  Tell  her  I  was  not  wor- 
thy to  be  her  sister;  tell  her  anything  you  like;  but  the 
doctor  —  oh,  Alice,  do  you  tliink  he'll  come,  just  for  a  min- 
ute, before  he  goes  ?  " 

It  was  not  a  pleasant  thing  for  the  doctor  to  meet  'Lict 
now  face  to  face,  for  he  thought  she  wished  to  reproach  hira 
for  his  treachery.  But  she  did  not  —  she  thought  only  of 
herself;  and  when  at  last,  urged  on  by  Anna  and  Alice, 
he  entered  in  to  her  presence,  she  only  offered  him  her 
hand  at  first  without  a  sinfjie  word.     He  was  shocked  to 


POOR  'lina.  309 

find  her  so  sick,  for  a  few  hours  had  worked  a  marvellous 
change  in  her,  and  he  shrank  from  the  bright  eyes  fixed 
60  eagerly  on  his  face. 

«  Oh,  Dr.  Richards,"  she  began  at  last,  "  if  I  loved  you 
less  it  would  not  be  so  hard  to  tell  you  what  1  must.  1 
did  love  you,  bad  as  I  am,  but  I  meant  to  deceive  you 
It  was  for  me  that  Adah  kept  silence  at  Terrace  Hill 
Adah,  I  almost  hate  her  for  having  crossed  my  path." 

There  was  a  fearfully  vindictive  gleam  in  the  bright 
eyes  now,  and  the  doctor  shudderingly  looked  away,  while 
'Lina,  with  a  softer  tone  continued,  "  You  believed  me  rich, 
and  whether  you  loved  me  afterward  or  not,  you  sought 
me  first  for  my  money.  I  kept  up  the  delusion,  for  in  no 
other  way  could  I  have  won  you.  Dr.  Richards,  if  I  die, 
as  perhaps  I  may,  I  shall  have  one  less  sin  for  which  to 
atone,  if  I  confess  to  you  that  instead  of  the  heiress  you 
imagined  me  to  be,  I  had  scarcely  money  enough  to  pay 
my  board  at  that  hotel.  Hugh,  who  himself  is  poor,  fur- 
nished what  means  I  had,  and  most  of  my  jewelry  was 
borrowed.  Do  you  hear  that  ?  j^o  you  know  what  you 
have  escaped  ?  " 

She  almost  shrieked  at  the  last,  for  she  read  his  feelings 
in  his  face,  and  knew  that  he  despised  her. 

"Go,"  she  continued,  "find  your  Adah.  It's  nothing 
but  Adah  now.  I  see  her  name  in  everything.  Hugh 
thinks  of  nothing  else,  and  why  should  he  ?  She's  his  sis- 
ter, and  7  —  oh !  I'm  nobody  but  a  beggarly  servant's  brat. 
I  wish  I  was  dead!  I  wish  I  was  dead,  and  I  will  be 
pretty  soon." 

This  was  their  parting,  and  the  doctor  left  her  room  a 
sobered,  sadder  man  than  he  had  entered  it.  Half  an  hour 
later,  and  ho,  with  Anna,  was  fast  nearing  Versailles,  where 
they  were  joined  by  Mr.  Millbrook,  and  together  the  three 
started  on  their  homeward  route. 


Rapidly  the  tidings  flew,  told  in  a  thousand  different 


310  HTJOn  WORTHINGTON. 

ways,  and  the  neigliborhoocl  was  all  on  fire  with  the 
Btrange  gossip.  But  little  cared  they  at  Spring  Bank  for 
the  storm  outside.  So  fierce  a  one  was  beating  at  their 
doors,  that  even  the  fall  of  Sumter  failed  to  elicit  more 
than  a  casual  remark  from  Hugh,  who  read  without  the 
slightest  emotion  the  President's  call  for  75,000  men.  At 
another  time  he  might  have  been  eager  to  jf  ir  Jie  fray 
and  hasten  to  avenge  the  insult,  for  Kentucky  held  no 
truer  patriot  than  he,  but  now  all  his  thoughts  were  cen- 
tered in  that  dark  room  where  'Lina  raved  in  mad-  deli- 
rium, controlled  only  by  his  or  Alice's  voice,  and  quiet 
only  when  one  of  them  was  mth  her.  Tenderer  than  a 
brother  was  Hugh  to  the  raving  creature,  staying  by  her 
so  patiently  and  uncomplainingly  that  none  save  Alice 
ever  guessed  how  he  longed  to  be  free  and  join  in  the 
search  for  Adah,  which  had  as  yet  proved  fruitless.  Night 
after  night,  day  atler  day,  'Lina  grew  worse,  until  at  last 
there  was  no  hope,  and  the  council  of  physicians  summon- 
ed  to  her  side,  said  that  she  would  die.  Still  she  lingered 
on,  and  the  fever  abated  at  last,  the  eyes  were  not  so  fear- 
fully bright,  while  the  wild  ravings  were  hushed,  and  'Lina 
lay  quietly  upon  her  pillow. 

"  Do  you  know  me  ?  "  Alice  asked,  bending  gently  over 
her,  while  Hugh,  from  the  other  side  of  the  bed,  leaned 
eagerly  forward  for  the  reply. 

"  Yes,  but  where  am  I  ?  This  is  not  New  York. 
Havel — am  I  sick,  very  sick?"  and 'Lina's  eyes  took  a 
terrified  expression  as  she  read  the  truth  in  Alice's  face. 
"  I  am  not  going  to  die,  am  I  ?  "  she  continued,  casting 
upon  Alice  a  look  which  would  have  wrung  out  the 
tnith,  even  if  Alice  had  been  dis-posed  to  withhold  it, 
which  she  was  not. 

"You  are  very  sick,"  she  answered,  "  and  though  we 
hope  for  the  best,  the  doctor  does  not  encourage  us  much. 
Are  you  willing  to  die,  'Lina  ?  " 

Neither  Hugh  nor  Alice  ever  forgot  the  tone  of  'Lina'i 
Foice  as  she  replied, 


311 


«« Willing  ?  No  I "  or  the  expression  of  her  face,  as  she 
turned  it  to  the  wall,  and  motioned  them  to  leave  Ler. 

For  two  days  after  that  she  neither  spoke  nor  gave 
other  token  of  interest  in  any  thing  passing  around  her, 
but  at  the  expiration  of  that  time,  as  Alice  sat  by  her,  she 
suddenly  exclaimed, 

**  Forgive  us  our  trespasses  as  we  forgive  those  who 
trespass  against  us.  I  wish  he  had  said  that  some  other 
way,  for  if  that  means  we  can  not  be  forgiven  until  we  for- 
give  every  body,  there's  no  hope  for  me,  for  I  cannot,  I  will 
not  forgive  that  servant  for  being  my  mother,  neither  will 
I  forgive  Adah  Hastings  for  having  crossed  my  path.  If 
she  had  never  seen  the  doctor  1  should  have  been  his 
wife,  and  never  have  know  who  or  what  I  was.  I  hate 
them  both,  so  you  need  not  pray  for  me.  I  heard  you  last 
night,  but  it's  no  use.     I  can't  forgive." 

'Liua  was  very  much  excited  —  so  much  so,  indeed,  that 
Alice  could  not  talk  with  her  then  ;  and  for  days  this  was 
the  burden  of  her  remarks.  She  could  not  forgive  her  moth- 
er nor  Adah,  and  until  she  did,  there  was  no  use  for  her  or 
any  one  else  to  pray.  Bat  the  prayers  she  could  not  say 
for  herself  were  said  for  her  by  others,  while  Alice  omitted 
no  proper  occasion  for  talking  with  her  personally  on  the 
subject  she  felt  to  be  all  important.  Nor  were  these  ef- 
forts without  their  effect,  for  the  bitter  tone  ceased  at  last, 
.  and  'Lina  became  gentle  as  a  child. 

Taking  Mrs.  Worthington's  hand  one  day,  she  said, 
"  I've  given  you  little  cause  to  love  me,  and  I  know 
liow  glad  you  must  be  that  another,  and  not  I,  is  your 
real  daughter.  I  did  not  know  what  made  me  so  bad,  but 
1  understand  it  now.  I  saw  myself  so  plainly  in  that 
man's  eyes ;  it  was  his  nature  in  me  which  made  me  a 
second  Satan  —  so  bad  to  you,  so  hateful  to  Hugh.  Oh, 
Hugh  !  the  memory  of  what  I've  been  to  him  is  the  hardest 
part  of  all,  for  I  want  him  to  think  kindly  of  me  when 
I'm  gone  !  "  and  covering  her  face  with  the  sheet,  'Lina 


312  HUGH    WORTHINGTON. 

wept  bitterly ;  while  Hugh,  who  was  standing  behi^id  her 
laid  his  warm  hand  on  her  head,  smoothing  her  hail 
caressingly,  as  he  said, 

"Never  mind  that,  'Lina ;  I,  too,  was  bad  to  you  — 
provoking  you  purposely  many  times,  and  exposing  your 
weakness  just  to  see  how  savage  you  would  be.  If  'Lina 
can  forgive  me,  I  surely  can  forgive  'Lina." 

There  was  the  sound  of  convulsive  sobbing;  and  then, 
uncovering  her  face,  'Lina  raised  herself  up,  and  laying 
her  head  on  Hugh's  bosom,  answered  through  her 
tears, 

"  I  wish  I  had  always  felt  as  I  do  now.  We  should 
have  been  happier  together,  and  it  would  not  be  so  great 
a  relief  to  you  all  to  have  me  gone,  never  to  come  back 
again.  Hugh,  you  don't  know  how  bad  I've  been.  You 
remember  the  money  you  sent  to  Adah  last  summer  in 
mother's  letter.  I  kept  the  whole.  I  burned  the  letter, 
and  mother  never  saw  it.  I  bought  jewelry  with  Adah's 
money.  I  did  so  many  things,  I  —  I  —  it  goes  from  me 
now.  I  can't  remember  all.  Oh,  must  I  confess  the  whole, 
everything,  before  I  can  say,  '  Forgive  us  our  trespas- 
ses?'" 

"  No,  'Lina,  Unless  you  can  repair  some  wrong,  you  arc 
not  bound  to  tell  every  little  thing.  Confession  is  due  to 
God  alone,"  Alice  whispered  to  the  agitated  girl,  who  looked 
bewildered,  as  she  answered  back, "  But  God  knows  all  now, 
and  you  do  not ;  besides,  I  can't  feel  sorry  towards  Him  aa 
I  do  towards  others.  I  try  and  try,  but  the  feeling  is  not 
there, —  the  sorry  feeling,  I  mean,  as  sorry  as  I  want  to 
feel." 

"  God,  who  knows  our  feebleness,  accepts  our  purpose 
to  do  better,  and  gives  us  strength  to  carry  them  out, 
Alice    whispered,  again    bending  over  'Lina,  on   whose 
pallid,  distressed  face  a  ray  of  hope  for  a  moment  shone. 

"  I  have  good  purposes,"  she  murmured,  "  but  I  can't,  I 
can't.    I  don't  know  as  they  are  real ;  may  be,  if  I  get 


313 

frell,  they  Avould  not  last,  and  it's  all  so  dark,  so  desolate, 
—  nothing  to  make  life  desirable,  —  no  home,  no  name,  no 
friends  —  and  death  is  so  terrible.  Oh,  Hugh,  Hugh ! 
don't  let  me  go.  You  are  strong;  you  can  hold  me  back, 
even  from  Death  himself,  and  I  can  be  good  to  you  ;  I  can 
fool  on  that  point,  and  I  tell  you  truly  that,  standing  as  I 
am  with  the  world  behind  and  death  before,  I  see  nothing 
to  make  life  desirable,  but  you,  Hugh,  my  noble,  my  abused 
brother.  To  make  you  love  me,  as  I  hope  I  might,  is 
worth  living  for.  You  would  stand  by  me,  Hugh,  —  you 
if  no  one  else,  and  I  wish  I  could  tell  you  how  fast  the 
great  throbs  of  love  keep  coming  to  my  heart.  Dear 
Hugh,  brother  Hugh,  don't  let  me  die,  —  hold  me  fast." 

With  an  icy  shiver,  she  clung  closer  to  Hugh,  as  if  he 
could  indeed  do  battle  with  the  king  of  teiTors  stealing 
slowly  into  that  room. 

"  Somebody  say  '  Our  Father,' "  she  whispered,  "  I  can't 
remember  how  it  goes." 

"  Do  you  forgive  and  love  everybody  ?  "  Alice  asked* 
sisrhms:  as  she  saw  the  bitter  exoression  flash  for  an  instant 
over  the  pinched  features,  while  the  white  lips  answered, 
"  Not  Adah,  no,  not  Adah." 

Alice  could  not  pray  after  that,  not  aloud  at  least,  and 
a  deep  silence  fell  upon  the  group  assembled  around  the 
death-bed.  while  'Lina  slept  quietly  on  Hugh's  strong 
arm.  Gradually  the  hard  expression  on  the  face  relaxed, 
giving  way  to  one  of  quiet  peace,  as  they  waited  anxious- 
ly for  the  close  of  that  long  sleep.  It  was  broken  at  last, 
but  'Lina  seemed  lost  to  all  save  the  thoughts  burning  at  her 
breast,  —  thoughts  which  brought  a  quiver  to  her  lips,  and 
f(.)rcud  out  upon  her  brow  great  drops  of  sweat.  The  noon- 
day sun  of  May  was  shining  broadly  into  the  room,  but  to 
Mjina  it  was  night,  and  she  said  to  Alice,  now  kneeling  at 
her  side,  "It's  growing  dark;  they'll  light  the  street 
lamps  pretty  soon,  and  the  band  will  play  in  the  yard,  but 
I  shall  not  hear  them.  'New  York  and  Saratoga  are  a 
14 


314  HUGH   WORTHINGTON. 

great  ways  ofl^  and  so  is  Terrace  Hill.  Tell  Adah  I  do 
forgive  her,  and  I  would  like  to  see  her,  for  she  is  my  half 
sister.  The  bitter  is  all  gone.  I  am  in  charity  with  ev  ■ 
erybody,  everybody.  May  I  say  *Our  Father'  now?  It 
goes  and  comes,  goes  and  comes,  forgive  our  trespasses, 
my  trespasses;  how  is  it,  Hugh?  Say  it  with  me  once, 
and  you,  too,  mother." 

Mrs.  Worthington,  with  a  low  cry  began  with  Hugh 
the  soothing  prayer  in  which  'Lina  joined  feebly,  throw- 
ing in  ejaculatory  sentences  of  her  own.  "  Forgive  my 
trespasses  as  I  forgive  those  that  trespass  against  me. 
Bless  Hugh,  dear  Hugh,  noble  Hugh.  Forgive  us  our 
trespasses,  forgive  us  our  trespasses,  our  trespasses,  forgive 
771}/  trespasses,  me,  forgive,  forgive." 

It  was  the  last  words  which  ever  passed  'Lina's  lipsj 
"  Forgive,  forgive,"  and  Hugh,  with  his  ear  close  to  the 
lips,  heard  the  flint  murmur  even  after  the  hands  had  fall- 
en from  his  neck  where,  in  the  last  struggle,  they  had  been 
clasped,  and  after  the  look  which  comes  but  once  to 
all  had  settled  on  her  face.  That  was  the  last  of  'Lina, 
with  that  cry  for  pardon  she  passed  away,  and  though  it 
was  but  a  death-bed  repentance,  and  she,  the  departed, 
had  much  need  for  pardon,  Alice  clung  to  it  as  to  a  ray  of 
hope,  knowing  how  tender  and  full  of  compassion  was  the 
blessed  Saviour,  even  to  those  who  turn  not  to  him  until 
the  river  of  death  is  bearing  them  away.  Yery  gently 
Hugh  laid  the  dead  girl  back  upon  the  pillow,  and  leaving 
one  kiss  on  her  white  forehead,  hurried  away  to  his  own 
room,  where,  unseen  by  mortal  eye,  he  could  ask  for  knowl- 
(jdge  to  give  himself  to  the  God  who  had  come  so  near  to 
{ Lem. 

The  next  day  was  appointed  for  the  fimeral,  and  just  aa 
the  sun  was  setting,  a  long  procession  wound  across  the 
fields,  and  out  to  the  hillside,  where  the  Spring  Bank  dead 
were  buried,  and  where  they  laid  'Lina  to  rest,  forgetting 
all  her  faults,  and  speaking  only  kindly  words  of  her  as 


JOINING    THE    ARMY.  315 

they  went  slowly  back  to  the  house,  from  which  she  had 
gone  forever. 


CHAPTER  XXXy. 

JOINING  THE  AKMT. 

Ten  days  after  the  burial,  there  came  three  letters  to 
Spring  Bank,  one  to  Hugh,  from  Murdoch,  as  he  now 
chose  to  be  called,  saying  that  though  he  had  sought  and 
was  still  searching  for  the  missing  Adah,  he  coukl  only 
trace  her,  and  that  but  vaguely,  to  the  Greenbush  depot, 
where  he  lost  sight  of  her  entirely,  no  one  after  that  hav- 
ing seen  a  person  bearing  the  least  resemblance  to  her. 
After  a  consultation  with  the  doctor,  he  had  advertised 
for  her,  and  he  enclosed  a  copy  of  the  advertisement,  as 
it  appeared  in  the  different  papers  of  Boston,  Albany,  and 
New  York. 

"  ^^  ^ H will  let  her  whereabouts  be  known  to  her  friends 

she  will  hear  of  something  to  her  advantage."  * 

This  was  the  purport  of  Murdoch's  letter,  if  we  except 
a  kind  enquiry  after  'Zina,  of  whose  death  he  had  not 
heard. 

The  second,/or  Alice,  was  from  Anna  Richards,  who 
havmg  heard  of  'Lina's  decease,  spoke  kindly  of  the  un- 
fortunate  girl,  and  then  wrote.  «I  have  great  hopes  (,f 
my  errmg  brother,  now  that  I  know  how  his  whole  heait 
5oes  out  towards  his  beautiful  boy,  our  darling  W^Jie.  I 
wish  poor,  dear  Lily  could  have  seen  him  when,  on  his  ar- 
rival at  Terraco  Hill,  he  knelt  bv  the  crib  of  his  sleepinc^ 
child,  waking  him  at  once,  and  hugging  him  to  his  bosom" 
while  his  tears  dropped  like  rain.    I  am  sure  she  would 


316  HUGH    WORTHINGTON. 

have  chosen  to  be  his  wife,  for  her  own  sake  as  well  aa 
Willie's. 

"  You  knew  how  proud  ray  mother  and  sisters  are,  and 
it  wo  lid  surprise  you  to  see  them  pet,  and  spoil,  and  fondle 
Willie,  who  rules  the  entire  household ;  mother  even  al- 
lowing him  to  bring  wheel-barrow,  drum,  and  trumpet 
into  the  parlor,  declaring  that  she  likes  the  noise,  as  it 
Btirs  up  her  blood.  Willie  has  made  a  vast  change  in  our 
once  quiet  home,  and  I  fear  I  shall  meet  with  much  op- 
position when  I  take  him  away,  as  I  expect  to  do  next 
month,  for  Lily  gave  him  to  me,  and  brother  John  has 
said  that  I  may  have  him  until  the  mother  is  found,  w^hile 
Charlie  is  perfectly  willing;  and  thus,  you  see,  my  cup  of 
'joy  is  full. 

"  Brother  is  away  now,  searching  for  Adah,  and  I  am 
wicked  enough  not  to  miss  him,  so  busy  am  I  in  the  few 
preparations  needed  by  the  wife  of  a  poor  missionary." 

Then,  in  a  postcript,  Anna  added  :  "  I  forgot  to  tell  you 
that  Charlie  and  I  are  to  be  married  some  time  in  July, 
that  the  Presbyterian  Society  of  Snowdon  have  given  him 
a  call  to  be  their  pastor,  that  he  has  accepted,  and  what 
is  best  of  all,  has  actually  rented  your  old  home  for  us  to 
live  in.  Oh,  I  am  so  happy  ;  I  do  not  feel  like  an  old 
maid  of  thirty-three,  and  Charlie  flatters  me  by  saying  I 
have  certainly  gone  back  in  looks  to  twenty.  Perhaps  I 
have,  but  it  all  comes  of  happiness  and  a  heart  full  of 
thankfulness  to  our  good  Father  who  has  so  greatly  bless- 
ed me." 

With  a  smile,  Alice  finished  the  childlike  letter,  so  much 
like  Anna.  Then  feeling  that  Mrs.  Worthington  would  be 
^lad  to  l.ear  from  Willie,  she  went  in  quest  of  her,  finding 
her  at  the  end  of  the  long  piazza,  listening  while  Hugh 
read  the  sympathetic  letter  received  from  Irving  Stanley. 

From  the  doctor,  whom  he  accidentally  met  on  Broad- 
way, Irving  had  heard  of  'Lina's  death,  and  he  wrote  at 
once  to  Mrs.  Worthington,  expressing  his  sympathy  for  her 


JOINING   THE    ARMY.  317 

own  and  Hugh's  bereavement ;  thus  showing  that  the  Dr. 
had  only  told  him  a  part  of  the  sad  stoiy,  withholding 
all  that  concerned  Adah,  who  was  evidently  a  stranger  to 
Irving  Stanley.  His  sister,  Mrs.  Ellsworth,  was  weilj  no 
wrote,  though  very  busy  with  her  preparations  for  going 
to  Europe,  whither  he  intended  accompanying  her,  adding 
"  it  was  not  so  much  pleasure  which  was  taking  her  there, 
as  the  hope  that  by  some  of  the  Paris  physicians  her 
little  defonned  Jennie  might  be  benefitted.  She  had 
secured  a  gem  of  a  governess  for  her  daughter,  a  young 
lady  whom  he  had  not  yet  seen,  but  over  whose  beauty 
and  accomplishments  his  staid  sister  Carrie  had  really 
waxed  eloquent."  The  letter  closed  by  asking  if  Hugh 
were  still  at  home  or  had  he  joined  the  army. 

"  Oh-h,"  and  Alice's  cheek  grew  pale  at  the  very  idea  of 
Hugh's  putting  himself  in  so  much  danger,  for  Hugh  was 
very  dear  to  her  now.  His  noble,  unselfish  devotion  to 
'Lin a  had  finished  the  work  begun  on  that  memorable 
night  when  she  ^  had  said  to  him,  "  I  may  learn  to  love 
you,"  and  more  than  once  as  she  watched  with  him  by 
'Lina's  bedside,  she  had  been  tempted  to  wind  her  arm 
around  his  neck  and  whisper  in  his  ear, 

"  Hugh,  I  love  you  now,  I  will  be  your  wife." 
But  propriety  had  held  her  back  and  made  her  far  more 
reserved  towards  him  than  she  had  ever  been  before. 
Terribly  jealous  where  she  was  concerned,  Hugh  was 
quick  to  notice  the  change,  and  the  gloomy  shadow  on  his 
face  was  not  caused  wholly  by  'Lina's  sad  death,  as  rainy 
had  supposed.  Hugh  was  very  unhappy.  Instead  oi 
learning  to  love  him,  as  he  had  sometimes  hoped  she  miglir, 
Alice  had  come  to  dislike  him,  shunning  his  society,  and  al- 
ways making  some  pretense  to  get  away  if  by  chance  i\\ey 
were  left  alone,  or  if  compelled  to  talk  with  him,  clialting 
rapidly  on  the  most  indifferent  topics.  She  never  would 
love  him,  Hugh  thought,  and  feeling  that  the  sooner  he 
left  home  the  better,  he  had  decided  to  start  at  once  in 


318  HUGH   WORTHINGTON. 

quest  ot  Adah.  This  decision  he  had  not  yet  coramuni 
cated  to  his  mother,  but  as  the  closing  of  Irving  Stanley's 
letter  seemed  to  open  the  way,  he  rather  abruptly  an- 
nounced his  intention  of  going  immediately  to  New  York. 
lie  did  not  however  add  that  failing  to  find  his  sister,  he 
might  possibly  join  the  Federal  Army. 

Ever  since  he  had  had  time  to  think  clearly  upon  thi» 
gubject  then  agitating  the  public  mind,  Hugh  had  felt  an 
intense  desire  to  enroll  himself  with  the  patriotic  men 
who  would  not  sit  idly  down  while  their  country  was  lay- 
ing her  dishonored  head  low  in  the  dust.  A  Uniorist  to 
the  heart's  core,  he  had  already  won  some  notoriety  by 
his  bitter  denunciations  against  those  men  who,  with 
Harney  at  their  head,  were  advocating  secession  fi'om  the 
union.  But  his  first  duty  was  to  Adah,  and  so  he  only 
talked  of  her  and  the  probabilities  of  his  finding  her. 
He  should  start  to-morrow,  if  possible,  he  said.  He  had 
made  his  arrangements  to  do  so,  and  there  was  no  longer 
an  excuse  for  tarrying.  They  would  get  on  well  enough 
without  him;  they  would  not  miss  him  much,  and  he 
stole  a  glance  at  Alice,  who,  fearfiil  lest  she  might  betray 
herself,  framed  some  excuse  for  leaving  her  seat  upon  the 
piazza,  and  stole  up  to  her  room  where  she  could  be  alone, 
to  think  how  desolate  Spring  Bank  would  be  when  Hugh 
was  really  gone. 

Once  she  thought  to  tell  him  all,  thinking  that  a  per- 
fect understanding  would  make  her  so  much  happier 
while  he  was  away,  but  maidenly  modesty  kept  her  back, 
and  so  the  words  which  would  have  brought  so  much 
comfort  to  Hugh  were  to  the  last  unspoken.  Gentler, 
kinder,  tenderer  than  a  sister's  could  have  been,  was  her 
demeanoi  towards  him  during  the  wliole  of  the  next  day, 
the  last  he  spent  at  home.  Once,  emboldened  by  some- 
thing she  said,  Hugh  felt  half  tempted  to  sue  again  for 
the  love  so  coveted,  but  depreciation  of  himself  kept  him 
eilent,  af.d  when  at  last  they  parted,  his  manner  towards 


JOLNTCfG    THE    AEMT.  319 

her  was  so  constrained  and  cold  that  even  Mrs.  Worth- 
ington  observed  it,  wondering  what  had  come  between 
them.  She  wanted  Alice  to  think  well  of  Hugh,  and  by 
way  of  obliterating  any  unpleasant  imj^ression  he  might 
have  left  in  her  mind,  she  spent  the  morning  after 
his  departure  in  talking  of  him,  telling  how  kind  he  had 
always  been  to  her,  and  how  kind  he  was  to  every  bod  y. 
Many  acts  were  enumerated  by  the  fond  mother  as  proofs 
of  his  unselfishness,  and  aniong  others  she  spoke  of  his 
horoic  conduct  years  ago,  when  with  his  uncle  he  was  on 
Lake  Erie  and  the  boat  took  fire.  Had  she  never  told 
Alice  ? 

"  No,  never,"  Alice  answered  faintly,  a  new  light  break- 
ing in  upon  her  and  showing  her  why  it  was  that  Hugh's 
face  had  so  often  puzzled  her. 

Me  was  the  boy  to  whose  care  she  had  entrusted  her 
life,  and  she  was  the  Golden  Haired^  remembered  by  him 
BO  long  and  so  lovingly.  There  was  one  great  throb  of 
joy, —  of  perfect  delight,  and  then  an  intense  desire  to 
tell  Hugh  of  her  discovery 

But  Hugh  was  gone,  and  her  only  alternative  now 
was  to  write.  He  was  intending  to  stop  two  days  in 
Cincinnati,  and  he  had  said  to  his  mother,  "  If  any  thing 
happens  you  can  write  to  me  there,"  and  something  had 
happened,  something  which  made  her  heart  throb  wildly, 
as  alone  in  her  room  she  knelt  and  thanked  her  God,  asking 
that  he  would  care  for  the  Hugh  so  dear  to  her,  and  bring 
him  safely  back. 

Two  days  later  and  Hugh,  who  had  but  an  hour  longer 
to  remain  in  Cincinnati,  sauntered  to  the  post-office,  witli 
rery  little  expectations  that  he  should  find  any  thing 
awaiting  him.  How  then  was  he  surprised  when  a  clei  k 
handed  him  Alice's  letter,  the  sixth  she  had  written  ere  at 
all  satisfied  with  its  wording.  Hurrying  back  to  his  room 
at  the  hotel,  he  broke  the  seal,  and  read  as  follows 


820  HUGH   WORTniNGTON. 

"  Dear  Hugh  :  —  I  have  at  last  discovered  who  you  are, 
and  why  I  have  so  oflen  beeu  puzzled  with  your  face. 
You  are  the  boy  whom  I  met  on  the  St.  Helena,  and 
who  rescued  rae  from  drowning.  Why  have, you  nevei 
told  me  this  ? 

"  Dear  Hugh,  I  wish  1  had  known  it  earlier.  It  seems  so 
cold,  thanking  you  on  paper,  but  I  have  no  other  oppor- 
tunity, and  must  do  it  here. 

"  We  were  both  unconscious  when  taken  from  the  wa- 
ter, but  you  were  holding  fast  to  my  arm,  and  so  really 
was  the  means  of  my  being  sa^^^ed,  though  a  fisherman 
carried  me  to  the  shore.  You  must  have  been  removed 
at  once,  for  when  we  inquired  for  you  we  could  only  learn 
that  you  were  gone.  Heaven  bloss  you,  Hugh.  My 
mofher  prayed  often  for  the  preserver  of  her  child,  and 
need  I  tell  you  that  I,  too,  shall  never  forget  to  pray  for 
you  ?  The  Lord  keep  you  in  all  your  ways,  and  lead  you 
safely  to  your  sister,  Alice." 

Many  times  Hugh  read  this  note,  then  pressing  it  to  his 
lips  thrust  it  into  his  bosom,  but  failed  to  see  what  Alice 
had  hoped  he  might  see,  that  the  love  he  once  asked  for 
was  his  at  last. 

"  If  she  loved  me,  she  would  have  told  me  so,"  he 
thought,  "  for  she  promised  me  as  much,  but  she  does  not, 
so  that  ends  the  drama.  Oh,  Golden  Hair,  why  did  I  ev- 
er meet  her,  or  why  was  I  suffered  to  love  her  so  devot- 
edly, if  I  must  lose  her  at  the  last ! " 

There  were  great  drops  of  sweat  about  Hugh's  lips, 
and  on  his  forehead,  as,  burying  his  face  in  his  hands,  he 
aid  both  upon  the  table,  and  battled  manfully  with  big 
Jove  for  Alice  Johnson. 

"  God  help  me  in  my  sorrow,"  was  the  prayer  which 
fell  from  the  quivering  lips,  but  did  not  break  the  silence 
of  that  little  room,  where  none,  save  God,  witnessed 
the  conflict,  the  last  Hugh  ever  fought  for  Alice  John- 
son. 


JOimXG    THE    AKMY.  321 

He  covld  give  her  up  at  length  ;  could  think,  without 
a  shudder,  of  living  all  his  life  without  her,  and  when, 
late  that  afternoon,  he  took  the  evening  train  for  Cleve- 
land, not  one  in  the  crowded  car  would  have  guessed  how 
sore  was  the  heai-t  of  the  young  man  who  plunged  so  en- 
ergetically into  the  spirited  war  argument  in  progress  be- 
tween a  Northern  and  Southern  politician.  It  was  si 
splendid  escape-valve  for  his  pent-up  feelings,  and  Hugh 
earned  everything  before  him,  taking  by  turns  both  sidof 
of  the  question,  and  eifectually  silencing  the  two  com 
batants,  who  said  to  each  other  in  parting,  "We  shaF 
hear  from  that  Kentuckian  again,  though  whether  in 
Rebeldom  or  Yankee  land  we  cannot  tell." 

Arrived  at  New  York  he  wrote  a  reply  to  Alice's  note, 
Haying  that  what  he  had  done  for  her  was  no  more  tlian 
he  ought  to  have  done  for  any  one  who  had  come  to  him 
for  help,  and  that  she  need  not  expend  her  gratitude  on 
him,  though  he  was  glad  of  any  thing  to  keep  him  in  her 
remembrance. 

After  this  he  wrote  regularly,  kind,  friendly  letters,  and 
Alice  was  beginning  to  feel  that  they  in  some  degree 
atoned  for  his  absence,  when  there  came  one  which 
wrung  a  wailing  cry  from  Mrs.  Worthington,  and  brought 
Alice  at  once  to  her  side. 

"  What  is  it  ? "  she  asked  in  much  alarm,  and  Mrs. 
Worthington  replied,  "  Oh,  Hugh,  my  boy !  he's  enlisted, 
joined  the  army  !  I  shall  never  see  him  again !  " 

Could  Hugli  have  seen  Alice  then,  he  would  not  for  a 
moment  have  doubted  the  nature  of  her  feelings  towards 
himself.  She  did  not  cry  out,  nor  faint,  but  her  face  tum- 
id white  as  the  dress  she  wore,  while  her  hands  pressed 
o  tightly  together,  that  her  nails  left  the  impress  in  her 
flesh. 

"  God  keep  him  from  danger  and  death,"  she  murmur- 
ed ;  then,  winding  her  arm  around  the  stricken   mother 
she  wiped  her  tears  away ;  and  to  her  moaning  cry  that 
14« 


322  HUGH    WOETHINGTON. 

Bhe  \^as  lefl  alone,  replied,  "Let  me  be  your  child  till  h€ 
returns,  or,  if  he  never  does " 

She  could  get  no  further,  and  sinking  down  beside 
Hugh's  mother,  she  laid  her  head  on  her  lap,  and  wept 
bitterly.  Alas,  that  scenes  like  this  should  be  so  common 
in  our  once  happy  land,  but  so  it  is.  Mothers  start  with 
teiTor,  and  grow  faint  over  the  boy  just  enlisted  for  the 
war;  then  follow  him  with  prayers  and  yearning  lore  to 
the  distant  battle  field  ;  then  wait  and  watch  for  tidings 
from  him;  and  then  too  often  read  with  streaming  eyes 
and  hearts  swelling  with  agony,  the  fatal  message  which 
says  their  hoy  is  dead. 

It  was  a  sad  day  at  Spring  Bank  when  first  the  new? 
of  Hugh's  enlistment  came,  for  Hugh  seemed  as  really 
dead  as  if  they  heard  the  hissing  shell  or  whizzing  ball 
which  was  to  bear  his  young  life  away.  It  was  nearly 
two  months  since  he  left  home,  and  he  could  find  no  trace 
of  Adah,  though  searching  faithfully  for  her,  in  conjunc- 
tion with  Murdoch  and  Dr.  Richards,  both  of  whom  hat 
joined  him  in  Xew  York. 

"  If  Murdoch  cannot  find  her,"  he  wrote,  "  I  am  con- 
vinced no  one  can,  and  I  leave  the  matter  now  to  him, 
feeling  that  another  duty  calls  me,  the  duty  of  fighting 
for  my  country." 

It  was  just  after  the  disastrous  battle  of  Bull  Run,  when 
people  were  wild  with  excitement,  and  Hugh  was  thus 
borne  with  the  tide,  until  he  found  himself  enrolled  as  a 
private  in  a  regiment  of  cavalry,  gathering  in  one  of  the 
Northern  States.  There  had  been  an  instant's  hesitation, 
•a  clinging  of  the  heart  to  the  dear  old  home  at  Spring 
Bank,  where  his  mother  and  Alice  were ;  and  then,  with 
an  eagerness  which  made  his  whole  frame  tremble,  he  had 
seized  the  pen,  and  written  down  his  name,  amid  deafen 
ing  cheers  for  the  brave  Kentuckian.  This  done,  there 
was  no  turning  back  ;  nor  did  he  desire  it.  It  seemed  as 
if  he  were  made  for  war,  so  eagerly  he  longed  to  join  the 


JOINING    THE    ARMY.  823 

fray.  Only  one  thing  was  wanting,  and  that  was  Rocket. 
He  had  tried  the  "  Yankee  horses,"  as  lie  called  them,  but 
found  them  far  inferior  to  his  pet.  Rocket,  he  must  have, 
and  in  his  letter  to  his  mother,  he  made  arrangements  for 
her  to  send  him  northwa»d  by  a  Versailles  merchant,  who, 
he  knew,  was  coming  to  New  York. 

Hugh  and  Rocket,  they  would  make  a  splendid  matclu 
and  so  Alice  thought,  as,  on  the  day  when  Rocket  was  led 
away,  she  stood  with  her  arms  around  his  graceful  neck, 
whispering  to  him  the  words  of  love  she  would  fain  have 
sent  his  master.  She  had  recovered,  from  the  first  shock 
of  Hugh's  enlistment.  She  could  think  of  him  now 
calmly  as  a  soldier ;  could  pray  that  God  would  keep  him, 
and  even  feel  a  throb  of  pride  that  one  who  had  lived  so 
many  years  in  Kentucky,  then  poising  almost  equally  in 
the  scale,  should  come  out  so  bravely  for  the  right,  though 
by  that  act  he  called  down  curses  on  his  head  from  those 
at  home  who  favored  Rebellion,  and  who,  if  they  fought 
at  all,  would  cast  in  their  lot  with  the  seceding  States. 
She  had  written  to  Hugh  telling  him  how  proud  she  was 
of  him,  and  how  her  sympathy  and  prayers  would  follow 
him  everywhere.  "  And  if,"  she  had  added,  in  concluding, 
"  you  arc  sick,  or  wounded,  I  will  come  to  you  as  a  sister 
might  do.     I  will  find  you  wherever  you  are." 

She  had  sent  this  letter  to  him  three  weeks  before,  and 
now  she  stood  caressing  the  beautiful  Rocket,  who  some- 
times proudly  arched  his  long  neck,  and  then  looked 
wistfully  at  the  sad  group  gathered  round  him,  as  if  he 
knew  it  was  no  ordinary  parting.  Col.  Tifilon,  who  had 
heard  what  was  going  on,  had  ridden  over  to  expostulate 
with  Mrs.  Worthington  against  sending  Rocket  North* 
"Better  keep  him  at  home,"  he  said,  «  and  tell  Hugh  to 
come  back,  and  let  those  who  had  raised  the  muss  settle 
their  own  difficulty." 

The  old  colonel,  who  was  a  native  of  Virginia,  did  not 
know  exactly  where  he  ?tood.     *'  He  was  very  patriotic," 


324  HXJGn  woKTni:jfGTON. 

he  said,  "but  hanged  if  he  knew  wliich  side  to  take  —  both 
were  wrong.  He  didn't  go  Xell's  doctrine,  for  Nell  was  a 
rabid  Secesh ;  neither  did  he  swallow  Abe  Lincoln,  and 
he  d  advise  Alice  to  keep  a  little  more  quiet,  for  there 
was  no  knowing  what  tlie  hot  heads  would  do ;  they 
irjight  pounce  on  Spring  Bank  any  night." 

^'Let  them,"  and  Alice's  blue  eyes  flashed  jrightly 
while  her  girlish  figure  seemed  to  expand  and  grow  highei 
as  she  continued ;  they  will  find  no  cowards  here.  1 
never  touched  a  revolver  in  my  life.  I  am  quite  as  much 
afraid  of  one  that  is  not  loaded  as  of  one  that  is,  but  I'll 
conquer  the  weakness.  I'll  begin  to-day.  I'll  learn  to 
handle  fire-arms.  I'll  practice  shooting  at  a  mark,  and  if 
Hugh  is  killed  I'll " 

She  could  not  tell  what  she  would  do,  for  the  -woman 
conquered  all  other  feelings,  and  laying  her  face  on  Rock 
et's  silken  mane,  she  sobbed  aloud. 

"  There's  pluck,  by  George !  "  muttered  the  old  colonel 
"I  most  wish  Nell  was  that  way  of  thinking." 

It  was  time  now  for  Rocket  to  go,  and  'mid  tlie  deaf 
ninsr  howls  of  the  neiirroes  and  the  tears  of  Mrs.  Wor 
thington  and  Alice  he  was  led  away,  the  latter  watching 
him  until  he  w^as  lost  to  sight  beyond  the  distant  hill,  then 
falling  on  her  knees  she  prayed,  as  many  a  one  has -done, 
that  God  would  be  with  our  brave  soldiers,  giving  them 
the  victory,  and  keeping  one  of  them,  at  least,  from  fall- 
ing. 

Sadly,  gloomily  the  autu^nn  days  came  on,  and  the  land 
was  rife  with  war  and  rumors  of  war.  In  the  vicinity  of 
Spring  Bank  were  many  patriots,  but  there  W2re  hot 
Secessionists  there  also,  and  bitter  contritions  ensued. 
Old  fi'iends  were  estranged,  families  were  divided,  neigli 
bors  watched  each  other  jealously,  while  all  seemed 
waiting  anxiously  for  the  result. 

Blacker,  and  darker,  and  thicker  the  war  clouds  gathered 
on  our  horizon,  but  our  story  has  little  to  do   with   thai 


JOIinJi^G    THE    ARMY.  325 

first  year  of  cfiniage,  when  human  blood  Avas  poured  as 
freely  as  water,  from  the  Cumberland  to  the  PotomnQ 
Over  all  that  we  pass,  and  open  the  scene  again  in  the 
summer  of  '62,  when  people  were  gradually  waking  to 
the  fact  that  Richmond  was  not  so  easily  taken,  or  th<> 
South  so  easily  conquered. 


CHAPTER   XXXVI. 


THE     DESEETEE. 


There  had  been  a  desertion  from  a  regiment  on  the 
Potomac.  An  officer  of  inferior  rank,  but  whose  position 
had  been  such  as  to  make  him  the  possessor  of  much 
valuable  information,  was  missing  from  his  command  one 
morning,  and  under  such  circumstances  as  to  leave  little 
doubt  that  his  intention  was  to  reach  the  enemy's  lines  if 
possible.  Long  and  loud  were  the  invectives  against  the 
traitor,  and  none  were  deeper  in  their  denunciations 
than  Captain  Hugh  Worthington,  as,  seated  on  his  tiery 
war-horse.  Rocket,  he  heard  from  Irving  Stanley  the  story 
of  Dr.  Richards'  disgrace. 

"  He  should  be  pursued,  brought  back,  and  shot ! "  he 
said,  emphatically,  feeling  that  he  would  like  much  to  be 
one  of  the  pursuers  already  on  the  track  of  the  treacher- 
ous doctor,  who  skillfully  eluded  them  all,  and  just  at 
the  close  of  a  warm  summer  day,  sat  in  the  shadow  of 
the  Virginia  woods,  weary,  foot-sore  and  faint  with  the 
pain  caused  from  his  ankle,  sprained  by  a  recent  fall. 

He  had  hunted  for  Adah  until  entirely  discouraged, 
and  partly  as  a  panacea  for  the  remorse  preying  so  con- 
stantly upon  him,  and  partly  in  compliance  with  Anna's 
entreaties,  he  had  at  last  joined  the  Federal  army,  and 
been  sworn  in  with  the  full  expectation  of  some  lucrative 


326  HUGH   WORTHINGTON. 

office.  But  his  unlucky  star  was  in  the  ascendant.  Sto- 
ries derogatory  to  his  character  were  set  afloat,  and  the 
final  result  of  the  whole  was  that  he  found  himself  enroll- 
ed in  a  company  where  he  knew  he  was  disliked,  and  un- 
der a  captain  whom  he  thoroughly  detested,  for  the  fraud 
practised  iipon  himself.  In  this  condition  he  was  sent  to 
the  Potomac,  and  while  on  duty  as  a  picket,  grew  to  be 
on  the  most  friendly  terms  with  more  than  one  of  the 
enemy,  planning  at  last  to  desert,  and  effecting  his  escape 
one  stormy  night,  when  the  wa^ch  were  off  their  guard. 
Owing  to  some  mistake,  the  aid  promised  by  his  Rebel 
friends  had  not  been  extended,  and  as  best  he  could  he 
was  making  his  way  to  Richmond,  when,  worn  out  with 
hunger  and  fatigue,  he  sank  down  to  die,  as  he  believed, 
at  the  entrance  of  some  beautiful  woods  which  skirted  the 
borders  of  a  well-kept  firm  in  Virginia.  Before  him,  at 
the  distance  of  nearly  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  a  large,  hand- 
BOme  house  was  visible,  and  by  the  wreath  of  smoke  curl- 
ing from  the  rear  chimney,  he  knew  it  was  inhabited,  and 
thought  once  to  go  there,  and  beg  for  the  food  he  craved 
so  terribly.  But  fear  kept  him  back  —  the  people  might 
be  Unionists,  and  might  detain  him  a  prisoner  until  the 
officers  upon  his  track  came  up.  Dr.  Richards  was  cow- 
ardly, and  so  with  a  groan,  he  laid  his  head  upon  the 
grass,  and  half  wished  that  he  had  died  ere  he  came  to  be 
the  miserable  wretch  he  was.  The  pain  in  his  ankle  was 
by  this  time  intolerable,  and  the  limb  was  swelling  so  fast 
that  to  walk  on  the  morrow  was  impossible,  and  if  he 
found  a  shelter  at  all,  it  must  be  found  that  night. 

Midway  between  himself  and  the  house  was  acomfoit- 
able  looking  barn,  whither  he  resolved  to  go.  But  the 
journey  was  a  tedious  one,  and  brought  to  his  flushed 
forehead  great  drops  of  sweat  wrung  out  by  the  agony 
it  caused  him  to  step  upon  his  foot.  At  last,  when  ho 
could  bear  his  weight  upon  it  no  longer,  he  sank  upon 
the  ground,  and  crawling  slowly   upon  his  hands    and 


THE   DESERTER.  S27 


knees,  rcficlied  the  barn  just  as  it  was  growing  dark,  and 
the  shadows  creeping  into  the  corners  made  him  halt 
Bhrink  with  terror,  lest  they  were  the  bayonets  of  those 
whose  coming  he  was  constantly  expecting.  He  could 
not  climb  to  the  scaffolding,  and  so  he  sought  a  friendly 
pile  of  hay,  and  crouching  down  behind  it,  fell  asleep  for 
the  first  time  in  three  long  days  and  nights. 

The  early  June  sun  was  just  shining  through  the  .rackfl 
between  the  boards  when  he  awoke:  sore,  stiff;  fe^eiish, 
burning  with  thirst,  and  utterly  unable  to  use  the  poor, 
swollen  foot,  which  lay  so  helplessly  upon  the  hay. 

«  Oh,  for  Anna  now,"  he  moaned;  « if  she  were  only 
here  ;  or  Lily,  she  would  x^ty  and  forgive,  could  she  see  me 


now." 


But  hark,  what  sound  is  it  which  falls  upon  his  ear, 
making  him  quake  with  fear,  and,  in  spite  of  his  aching 
ankle,°creep  farther  behind  the  hay  !  It  is  a  footstep  —  a 
light,  tripping  step,  and  it  comes  that  way,  nearer,  nearer, 
until  a  shadow  falls  between  the  open  chinks  and  tho 
bricrlt  suT-.shine  without.  Tiien  it  moves  on,  round  tho 
corner,  pausuig  for  a  moment,  while  the  hidden  coward 
holds  his  breath  and  listens  anxiously,  hoping  nothing  is 
coining  there.  But  there  is,  and  it  enters  the  same  door 
through  which  he  came  the  previous  night  —  a  girlish 
fio-ure"^  with  a  basket  on  its  arm  —  a  basket  in  which  she 
puts  the  eggs  she  knew  just  where  to  find.  Not  behind 
the  hay,  where  a  poor  wretch  was  almost  dead  with  terror. 
There  was  no  nest  there,  and  so  she  failed  to  see  the 
ghastly  face,  pinched  with  hunger  and  pain,  the  glassy 
eyes,  the  uncombed  hair,  and  soiled,  tattered  garmejits  of 
him  who  once  was  known  as  one  of  fashion's  most  ^aslidi 
ous  dandies. 

She  had  secured  her  eggs  for  the  morning  meal,  and  th 
doctor  hoped  she  was  about  to  leave,  when  there  was  a 
rustling  of  the  hay,  and  he  almost  uttered  a  scream   of 
fear.     But  the  sound  died  on  his  lips,  as  he  heard  the 


328  HUGH   WORTHINGTON. 

voice  of  prayer  —  heard  that  young  girl  as  she  prayed, 
and  the  words  she  uttered,  stopj^ed,  for  an  instant,  tlie 
pulsation  of  his  heart,  and  partly  took  his  senses  away. 
First  for  her  baby-boy  she  prayed,  asking  that  God  would 
be  to  him  father  and  mother  both,  and  keep  him  from 
temptation.  Then  for  her  country ;  and  the  doctor, 
listening  to  her,  knew  it  was  no  Rebel  tongue  calling  so 
earnestly  on  God  to  save  the  Union,  praying  so  touchinglj 
for  the  poor,  suffering  soldiers,  and  coming  at  last  to  him, 
the  miserable  outcast,  whose  blood-shot  eyes  grew  blind, 
and  whose  brain  grew  giddy  a-nd  wild,  as  he  heard  again 
Lilifs  voice,  pleading  for  George,  wherever  he  might  be. 
She  did  not  say,  "  God  send  him  back  to  me,  who  loves 
him  still."  She  only  asked  forgiveness  for  the  father  of 
her  boy,  but  this  was  proof  to  the  listener  that  she  did  not 
hate  him,  and  forgetful  of  his  pain  he  raised  himself 
upon  his  elbow,  and  looking  over  the  pile  of  hay,  saw 
her  where  she  knelt,  Lily, — Adah, —  his  wife,  her  fiir  face 
covered  by  her  hands,  and  her  sofl,  brown  hair  cut  short, 
and -curling  in  her  neck. 

Twice  he  essayed  to  speak,  but  his  tongue  refused  to 
move,  and  he  sunk  back  exhausted,  just  as  Adah  rose 
fi-om  her  knees  and  turned  to  leave  the  barn.  He  could 
not  let  her  go.  lie  should  die  before  she  came  again  ;  he 
was  half  dying  now,  and  it  would  be  so  sweet  to  breathe 
out  his  life  upon  her  bosom,  with  perhaps  her  forgiving 
kiss  upon  his  lips. 

«  Adah  ! "  he  tried  to  say ;  but  the  quivering  lips  made 
no  sound,,  and  Adah  passed  out,  leaving  him  there  alone. 
"Adah,  Lily,  Annn,"  he  gasped,  hardly  knowing  himeelf 
*%diose  name  he  called  in  his  despair. 

She  heard  that  sound,  and  started  suddenly,  for  she 
thought  it  was  her  old,  familiar  name,  which  no  one  knew 
there  at  Sunny  Mead.  For  a  moment  she  paused ;  but 
it  came  not  again,  and  so  she  turned  the  corner,  and  her 
shadow  fell  a  second  time  on  the  haggard  face  pressed 


THE   DESERTER.  329 

against  that  crevice  in  the  wall,  the  opening  large  enough 
to  thrust  the  long  fingers  through,  in  the  wild  hope  of 
detaining  her  as  she  passed. 

'-''Adah!'' 

Tt  was  a  gasping,  bitter  cry ;  but  it  reached  her,  and 
looking  back,  she  saw  the  pale  hand  beckoning,  the  fingera 
mationing  feebly,  as  if  begging  her  to  return.  There  was 
a  moment's  hesitation,  and  then  conquering  her  timidity, 
Adah  went  back,  shuddering  as  she  passed  the  still  beck- 
oning hand,  and  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  wild  eyes  peering 
at  her  through  the  crevice. 

«  Adah  !  "^ 

She  heard  it  distinctly  now,  and  with  it  came  thoughts 
of  Hugh.  It  must  be  he  ;  and  her  feet  scarcely  touched 
the  ground  in  her  eagerness  to  find  him.  Over  the  thresh 
old,  across  the  floor,  and  behind  the  hay  she  bounded ; 
out  stood  aghast  at  the  spectacle  before  her.  He  had  strug 
gled  to  his  knees ;  and  with  his  sprained  limb  coiled  un- 
der him,  his  asheh  lips  apart,  and  his  arms  stretched  out, 
he  was  waiting  for  her.  But  Adah  did  not  spring  into 
those  trembling  arms,  as  once  she  would  have  done.  She 
would  never  willingly  rest  in  their  embrace  again ;  and 
utter,  overwhelming  surprise,  was  the  only  emotion  visi- 
ble on  her  face  as  she  recognized  him,  not  so  much  by  his 
looks  as  by  the  name  he  gave  her. 

"George,  oh,  George,  how  came  you  here?"  she  asked, 
drawing  backward  from  the  arm  reached  out  to  touch  her. 

He  felt  that  he  was  repulsed,  and,  with  a  wail  which 
smote  painfully  on  Adah's  heart,  he  fell  forward  on  his 
fece,  sobbing,  "Oh,  Adah,  Lily,  pity  me,  pity  me,  if  you 
can't  forgive  !  I  have  slept  for  three  nights  in  the  woods, 
without  once  tasting  food !  My  ankle  is  sprained,  my 
strength  is  gone,  and  I  wish  that  I  were  dead ! " 

She  had  drawn  nearer  to  him  while  he  spoke,  near 
enough  to  recognize  her  country's  uniform,  all  soiled  and 
tattered  though  it  was.  He  was  a  soldier  then  —  Liberty's 
loyal  son  — and  that  fact  awoke  a  throb  of  pity. 


830  HUGH    WOKTHDfGTOir. 

"  George,"  she  said,  kneeling  down  beside  him,  and  lay 
ing  her  hand  upon  his  ragged  coat,  "  tell  me  how  came 
you  here,  and  where  is  your  company?" 

He  would  not  deceive  her,  though  tempted  to  do  so, 
and  he  answered  her  truthfully,  "  Lily,  I  am  a  deserter, 
I  .im  trying  to  join  the  enemy  !  " 

He  did  not  see  the  indignant  flash  of  her  eyes,  or  the 
look  of  scorn  upon  her  face,  but  he  felt  the  reproach  her 
Eilence  implied,  and  dared  not  look  up. 

"  George,"  she  began  at  last,  sternly,  very  sternly,  **  but 
for  Him  who  bade  us  forgive  seventy  times  seven,  I  should 
feel  inclined  to  leave  you  here  to  die ;  but  when  I  remem- 
ber how  much  He  is  tried  with  me,  I  feel  that  I  am  to  be 
no  one's  judge.  Tell  me,  why  you  have  deserted ;  and 
telJ  me,  too  —  oh,  George,  in  mercy  —  tell  mo  if  you  know 
aught  of  Willie  f  " 

The  mother  had  forgotten  all  the  wrongs  heaped  upon 
the  wife,  and  Adah  drew  nearer  to  him  now,  so  near  in- 
deed, that  his  arm  encircled  her  at  last,  and  held  her 
close ;  but  the  ragged,  dirty,  fallen  creature  did  not  dare 
to  kiss  her,  and  could  only  press  her  convulsively  to  his 
breast,  as  he  attempted  an  answer  to  her  question. 

"You  must  be  quick,"  slie  said,  suddenly  remembering 
herself;  "it  is  growing  late,  Mrs.  Ellsworth  will  be  wait- 
ing for  her  breakfist ;  and  since  the  stampede  of  her  ser- 
vants, two  old  negroes  and  myself  are  all  there  are  left  to 
care  for  the  house.  Stay,"  she  added,  as  a  new  thought 
Bcemed  to  strike  her;  "I  must  go,  or  they  will  look  for 
me  ;  but  after  breakfast  I  will  return,  and  do  for  you  what 
I  oar.     Lie  down  again  upon  the  hay." 

She  spoke  kindly  to  him,  but  he  felt  it  was  as  she 
would  have  spoken  to  any  one  in  distress,  and  not  as  once 
she  had  addressed  him.  But  he  knew  that  he  deserved 
it;  and  he  suffered  her  to  leave  him,  watching  her  with 
streaming  eyes  as  she  hurried  along  the  path,  and  c^iunting 
the  minutes,  which  seemed  to  him  like  hours,  ere  he  saw 


THE    DESERTEE.  331 

her  returning.  She  was  very  white  when  she  came  back 
and  he  noticed  that  she  frequently  glanced  toward  the 
house,  as  if  haunted  by  some  terror.  Constantly  expecting 
detection,  he  grasped  her  arm,  as  she  bent  to  bathe  his 
swollen  foot,  and  whispered  huskily,  "Adah,  there's  some- 
thing on  your  mind  —  some  evil  you  fear.  Tell  rae,  iiS 
any  one  after  me  ! " 

Adah  nodded;  while,  like  a  fnghtened  child,  the  tall 
man  clung  to  her  neck,  saying,  piteously,  "  Don't  give  me 
up  !     Don't  tell ;  they  would  hang  me,  perhaps  !  " 

«  They  ought  to  do  so,"  trembled  on  Adah's  lips,  but 
she  suppressed  the  words,  and  went  on  bandaging  up  the 
ankle,  and  handling  it  as  carefully  as  if  it  had  not  belonged 
to  a  deserter. 

He  did  not  feel  pain  now  in  his  anxiety,  as  he  asked, 
"  Who  is  it,  Adah  ?  who's  after  me  ?  "  but  he  started  when 
she  replied,  with  downcast  eyes  and  a  flush  upon  her  cheek, 
"Major  Irving  Stanley.  You  were  in  his  regiment,  the 
—  th  N.  Y.  Volunteers." 

Dr.  Richards  drew  a  relieved  breath.  « I'd  rather  it 
were  he  than  Captain  Worth ington,  who  hates  me  so 
cordially.  Adah,  you  must  hide  me  ;  I  have  so  much  to 
tell.  I  know  your  parents,  your  brother,  your  husband  ; 
and  I  am  he.  It  was  not  a  mock  marriage.  It  has  been 
proved  real.  It  was  a  genuine  Justice  who  married  us, 
and  you  are  my  lawful  wife.  Oh,  pray,  please  don't  hurt 
rae  so,"  and  he  uttered  a  scream  of  pain  as  Adah's  hands 
pressed  heavily  upon  the  hard,  purple  flesh. 

She  scarcely  knew  what  she  was  doing  as  she  listened 
to  his  words,  and  heard  that  she  was  indeed  his  wife 
Two  years  before,  such  news  would  have  overwhelmed 
her  with  delight,  but  now  for  a  single  instant  a  fierce 
and  almost  resentful  pang  sliot  through  her  heart  as  she 
thought  of  being  bound  for  life  to  one  for  whom  she  had 
no  love,  and  whose  very  caresses  made  her  loathe  him 
more  and  more.    But  when  she  thought  of  Willie,  and 


332  HUGH   WORTHINGTOiy. 

that  tne  stain  upon  his  birth  was  washed  away,  the  hard 
look  left  her  eyes,  and  her  hot  tears  dropped  upon  the 
ankle  she  was  bantlngiiig. 

"  You  are  glad  ?  ''  he  asked,  looking  at  her  curiously,  for 
her  manner  puzzled  him. 

"Yes,  very  glad  for  WiUie,"  she  replied,  keeping  her 
face  bent  down  so  he  could  not  see  its  expression. 

Then  when  her  task  was  done,  she  seemed  to  nerve 
herself  for  some  painfUl  task,  and  sitting  down  upon  the 
hay  said  to  him, 

"  Tell  me  now  all  that  has  happened  since  I  left  Ter- 
race Ilill ;  but  first  of  Willie.  You  say  Anna  has 
him  ?  " 

"Yes,  Anna  —  Mrs.  Millbrook,"  he  replied,  and  was 
about  to  say  more,  wlien  Adah  inteiTupted  him  with, 

"  It  may  spare  you  some  pain  if  I  tell  you  first  what  I 
know  of  the  tragedy  at  Spring  Bank.  I  know  that 
^lAna  is  dead,  and  that  the  fact  of  my  existence  prevented 
the  marriage.  So  much  I  heard  Mrs.  Ellsworth  tell  her 
brother.  I  had  just  come  to  her  then.  She  was  prouder 
toward  me  than  she  is  now,  and  I  dared  not  question  her. 
Go  on,  you  spoke  of  my  parents,  my  brother.  Who  are 
they?"   . 

Iler  manner  perplexed  him  gi'eatly,  but  he  controlled 
himself,  while  he  repeated  rapidly  the  story  known  already 
to  our  readers,  the  story  wliich  made  Adah  reel,  and 
turn  so  white  that  he  attempted  to  reach  her  and  so  keep 
her  from  falling.  But  just  the  touch  of  his  hand  had 
power  to  rouse  her,  and  drawing  ba<;k  she  laid  her  fice  in 
the  hay,  and  moaned. 

"It's  more  than  I  ever  hoped.     Oh,  Heavenly   Father  ' 
accept  my  thanks  for  this  great  happiness.      A  mother  and 
B  brother  found." 

"And  husband,  too,"    chimed  in   the   doctor,   eagerly, 
"  thank  him  for  me,  Adah.     You  are  glad  to  find  me  ?  " 
There  was  a  pleading  in  his  tone  —  eaniest  jileading, 


THE    DESERTER.  333 

for  the  terrible  conviction  was  fastening  itself  upon  liim, 
that  not  as  they  once  parted  had  he  and  Adah  met.  For 
full  five  minutes  Adah  lay  upon  the  hay,  her  whole  soul 
going  out  in  a  prayer  of  thankfulness  for  her  great  joy,  and 
for  strength  to  bear  the  bitterness  mingling  with  her  joy. 
Uei  face  was  very  white  when  she  lifted  it  up  at  last,  but 
her  manneT  was  composed,  and  she  questioned  the  doc- 
tor calmly  of  Spring  Bank,  of  Alice,  of  Hugh,  of  Anna, 
but  could  not  trust  herself  to  say  much  to  him  of  Wil- 
lie, lest  her  calmness  should  give  way,  and  a  feeling  spring 
up  in  her  heart  of  something  like  affection  for  Willie's 
father.  Alas,  for  the  miserable  man.  He  had  found  his 
wife,  but  there  was  between  them  a  gulf  which  his  own 
act  had  built,  and  which  he  never  more  might  pass.  He 
began  to  suspect  it,  and  ere  she  had  finished  the  story  of 
her  wanderings,  which  at  his  request  she  told,  he  knew 
there  was  no  pulsation  of  her  heart  which  beat  for  him. 
He  asked  her  where  she  had  been  since  she  fled  from 
Terrace  Hill,  and  how  she  came  to  be  in  Mrs.  Ellsworth's 
family. 

There  was  a  moment's  hesitancy,  as  if  she  was  decid- 
ing how  much  to  tell  him  of  the  past,  and  then  resolving 
to  keep  nothing  back  which  he  might  know,  she  told  him 
how,  with  a  stunned  heart  and  giddy  brain,  she  had  gone 
to  Albany,  and  mingling  with  the  crowd  had  mechanical- 
ly followed  them  down  to  a  boat  just  starting  for  New 
York.  That,  by  some  means,  she  found  herself  in  the  sa- 
loon, and  seated  next  to  a  feeble,  deformed  little  girl,  who 
lay  upon  the  sofa,  and  whose  sweet,  childish  voice  said  to 
Ltf  pityingly, 

"Does  your  head  ache,  lady,  or  what  makes  you  so 
^hite?" 

iShe  had  responded  to  that  appeal,  talking  kindly  to  the 
little  girl,  between  whom  and  herself  the  friendliest  of  re- 
lations were  established,  and  whose  name,  she  learned,  was 
Jenny  Ellsworth.    The  mother  she  did  not  then  see,  aS| 


334  nuGn  worthington". 

during  the  journey  down  the  river  she  was  suffering  from 
a  nervous  headaclie,  and  kept  her  room.  From  the  child 
and  child's  nurse,  however,  she  heard  that  Mrs.  Ellsworth 
was  going  to  Europe,  and  was  anxious  to  secure  some 
competent  person  to  act  in  the  capacity  of  Jenny's  gov- 
erness. Instantly  Adah's  decision  was  made.  Once  in 
IS'ew  York  she  would  by  letter  apply  for  the  situation,  for 
nothing  then  could  so  well  suit  her  state  of  mind  as  a 
tour  to  Europe,  where  she  would  be  far  away  fi-om  all  she 
had  ever  known.  Very  adroitly  she  ascertained  Mrs.  Ells- 
worth's address,  wrote  her  a  note  the  day  following  her 
an-ival  in  New  York,  and  the  day  following  that,  found 
her  in  Mrs.  Ellsworth's  parlor  at  the  Brevoort  House, 
where  for  a  few  days  she  was  stopping.  It  had  troubled 
her  somewhat  to  know  what  name  to  take,  but  she  decid- 
ed finally  upon  Adah  Gordon  as  the  one  by  which  she 
was  known  ere  George  Hastings  crossed  her  path,  and  in 
her  note  to  Mrs.  Ellsworth  she  signed  herself"  A  Gordon." 
From  her  little  girl  Mrs.  Ellsworth  had  heard  much  of  the 
"sweet  young  lady,  who  was  so  kind  to  her  on  the  boat," 
and  was  thus  already  prepossessed  in  her  favor. 

Adah  did  not  tell  Dr.  Richards,  and  perhaps  she  did 
not  herself  know  how  surprised  and  delighted  Mrs.  Ells- 
worth was  with  the  fair,  girlish  creature,  announced  toher 
as  Miss  Gordon,  and  who  won  her  heart  before  five  min- 
utes were  gone,  making  her  think  it  of  no  consequence  to 

inquire  concerning  her  at  Madam 's  school,  where  she 

Daid  she  had  once  been  a  pupil. 

Naturally  very  impulsive  and  unsuspecting,  Mrs.  Ells- 
worth usually  acted  upon  her  likes  or  dislikes,  and  Adali 
^as   soon  installed   as  governess  to  the  delighted  little 
ennie,  who  learned  to  love  her  gentle  teacher  with  alo\e 
almost  amounting  to  idolatry. 

"  You  were  in  Europe,  then,  and  that  is  the  reason  why 
we  could  not  find  you,"  Dr.  Richards  said,  adding,  after 
a  moment,  "And  Irving  Stanley  went  with  you  —  waa 
vour  companion  all  the  while  ?  " 


THE    DESERTER.  335 

"Yes,  all  the  while,"  and  Adah's  cold  fingers  worked 
nervously  at  the  wisp  of  hay  she  was  twisting  in  her 
hand.  "  We  came  home  sooner  than  we  intended,  as  he 
was  anxious  to  join  the  army.  I  had  seen  him  before 
—  he  was  in  the  cars  when  Willie  and  I  were  on  our  way 
to  Terrace  Hill.  Willie  had  the  ear-ache,  and  he  was  so 
kind  to  us  both." 

Adah  looked  fixedly  now  at  the  craven  doctor,  who 
could  not  meet  her  glance,  for  well  he  remembered  the 
dastardly  part  he  had  played  in  that  scene,  where  his  own 
child  was  screaming  with  pain,  and  he  sat  selfishly  idle. 

"  She  don't  know  I  was  there,  though,"  he  thought,  and 
that  gave  him  some  comfort. 

But  Adah  did  know,  and  she  meant  he  should  know 
she  did.  Keeping  her  eyes  still  fixed  upon  him,  she  con- 
tinued, 

"  I  heard  Mr.  Stanley  talking  of  you  once  to  his  sister, 
and  among  other  things  he  spoke  of  your  dislike  for  chil- 
dren, and  referred  to  an  occasion  in  the  cars,  when  a  lit- 
tle boy,  for  whom  his  heart  ached,  was  sufi^ering  acutely 
and  for  whom  you  evinced  no  interest,  except  to  say  that 
you  hated  children,  and  to  push  his  feet  from  your  lap.  I 
never  knew  till  then  that  you  were  so  near  to  me." 

« It's  true,  it's  true,"  the  doctor  cried,  tears  rolling  down 
his  soiled  face ;  "  but  1  never  guessed  it  was  you.  Lily,  I 
supposed  it  some  ordinary  woman." 

"  So  did  Irving  Stanley,"  was  Adah's  quiet,  cutting  an- 
swer ;  but  his  heart  was  open  to  sympathy,  even  for  an 
ordinary  woman." 

The  doctor  could  only  moan,  with  his  face  still  hidden 

u  his  hands,  until  a  sudden  thought  like  a  revelation  flash- 

d  upon  him,  and  forgetting  his  wounded  foot,  he  sprang 

ike  a  tiger  to  the  spot  where   Adah  sat,  and  winaing  hia 

arm  firmly  around  her,  whispered  hoarsely, 

«  Adah,  you  love  Irmng  Stanley.  My  wife  loves  anothei 
than  her  husband." 


336  HUGH   WORTHING  TON. 

Adah  did  not  struggle  to  release  herself  from  liis 
grasp,  but  her  whole  soul  loathed  that  close  embrace, 
and  the  loathing  expressed  itself  in  the  tone  of  her  voice, 
as  she  replied, 

"  Until  within  an  hour  I  did  not  suppose  you  were  my 
hii8ban<l.  You  said  you  were  not  in  that  letter;  I  have 
it  yet;  the  one  in  which  you  told  me  it  was  a  mock 
marriage,  as,  by  your  own  confession,  it  seems  you  meant 
it  should  be." 

"  Oh,  darling,  you  kill  me,  yet  I  deserve  it  all ;  but 
Adah,  I  have  suffered  enough  to  atone  for  the  dreadful 
past;  and  I  tried  so  hard  to  find  you.  Forgive  me,  Lily, 
forgive,"  and  falling  again  on  his  knees,  the  wretched  man 
poured  forth  a  torrent  of  entreaties  for  her  forgiveness. 
her  love,  without  which  he  should  die. 

Holding  fast  her  cold  hands,  he  pleaded  with  all  his 
eloquence,  until,  maddened  by  her  silence,  he  even 
taunted  her  with  loving  another,  while  her  own  husband 
w^as  living. 

Then  Adah  started,  and  pushing  him  away,  sprang  to 
her  feet,  while  the  hot  blood  stained  her  face  and  neck, 
and  a  resentful  fire  gleamed  from  her  brown  eyes. 

"  It  is  not  well  for  you  to  reproach  me  with  faithless- 
ness," she  said,  "you,  who  have  dealt  so  treacherously 
by  me ;  you,  who  deliberately  planned  my  ruin,  and  would 
have  effected  it  but  for  the  deeper-laid  scheme  of  one 
you  say  is  my  father.  Xo  thanks  to  you  that  I  am  a  law- 
ful wife.  You  did  not  make  me  so  of  your  own  free  will. 
You  did  to  me  the  greatest  wrong  a  man  can  do  a  woman, 
then  cruelly  deserted  me,  and  now  you  would  chide  me  foi 
respecting  another  more  than  I  do  you." 

"  Xot  respecting  him,  Adah,  no,  not  for  respectmg  him. 
Yon  should  do  that.  He's  worthier  than  I;  but,  oh, 
Adah,  Lily,  wife,  mother  of  my  boy,  do  you  love  Irving 
Stanley?" 

He  was  sobbing  bitterly,  and  the  words  came  between 


THE    DESERTER.  337 

the  sobs,  while  he  tried  to  clutch  her  dress.  Staggering 
backward  against  the  wooden  beam,  Adah  leaned  there  for 
support,  while  she  replied, 

"  You  would  not  understand  if  I  should  tell  you  the 
terrible  struggle  it  was  for  me  to  be  thrown  each  day  in 
tlio  society  of  one  as  noble,  as  good  as  Irving  Stanley,  and , 
not  come  at  last  to  feel  for  him  as  a  poor  governess  ought 
uever  to  feel  for  the  handsome,  gifted  brother  of  her 
employer  Oh,  George,  I  prayed  against  it  so  much,  pray- 
ed to  be  kept  from  the  sin,  if  it  were  a  sin,  to  have  Irving 
Stanley  mingled  with  every  thought.  But  the  more  I 
prayed,  the  more  the,  temptation  seemed  thrust  upon  me. 
The  kinder,  gentler,  more  attentive,  grew  his  manners 
toward  me.  He  never  treated  me  as  a  mere  governess. 
It  was  more  like  an  equal  at  first,  and  then  like  a  younger 
sister,  so  that  few  strangers  took  me  for  a  subordinate,  so 
kind  were  both  Mrs.  Ellsworth  and  her  brother." 

"And  he,"  the  doctor  gasped,  looking  wistfully  in  her 
face,  "  does  he  —  do  you  think  he  loves  you  ?  " 

Adah  colored  crimson,  but  answered  frankly, 

"He  never  told  me  so;  never.said  to  me  a  word  which 
a  husband  should  not  hear;  but  —  sometimes,  I've  left 
him  abruptly  lest  he  should  speak,  for  that  I  knew  would 
bring  the  crisis  I  so  dreaded.  I  must  tell  him  the  whole 
then,  and  by  my  dread  of  doing  this,  I  knew  he  was  more 
than  a  friend  to  me.  I  was  fearful  at  first  that  he  might 
recognize  me,  but  I  was  much  thinner  than  when  I  saw 
hdm  in  the  cars,  while  my  hair,  purposely  worn  short,  and 
curling  in  my  neck,  changed  my  looks  materially,  so  that 
he  only  wondered  whom  I  was  so  much  like,  but  never , 
biispected  the  truth." 

There  was  silence,  a  moment,  and  then  the  doctor  asked, 
"  How  is  all  this  to  end  ?  " 

The  question  brought  into  Adah's  eyes  a  fearful  look  of 
anguish,  but  she  did  not  answer,  and  the  doctor  spoke 
again. 

15 


338  HUGH    WORTHLN^GTOX. 

"  Have  I  found  Lily  only  to  lose  her  ?  " 

Still  there  was  no  reply,  and  the  doctor  continued,  "  You 
are  my  wife,  Adah.  No  power  can  undo  that,  save  death, 
and  you  are  my  child's  mother.  For  Willie's  sake,  oli 
Adah,  for  Willie's  sake,  forgive." 

When  he  appealed  to  her  a^  his  wife,  Adah  seemed  turn- 
ng  into  stone  ;  but  the  mention  of  Willie,  touched  th« 
mother,  and  the  iceberg  melted  at  once. 

"For  Willie,  my  boy,"  she  gasped,  "I  could  do 
almost  anything  ;  I  could  die  so  willingly,  but  —  but 
—  oh,  George,  that  ever  we  should  come  to  this.  You  a 
deserter,  a  traitor  to  your  country  —  lame,  disabled,  whol- 
ly in  my  power,  and  begging  of  me,  your  outcast  wife,  for 
the  love  which  surely  is  dead  —  dead.  No,  George,  I  do 
forgive,  but  never,  never  more  can  I  be  to  you  a  wife." 

There  was  a  risino;  resentment  now  in  the  doctor's  man 
ner,  as  he  answered  reproachfully :  "  Then  surrender  me 
at  once  to  the  lover  hunting  for  me.  Let  him  take  me 
back  where  I  can  be  shot,  and  that  will  leave  you  free." 

Adah  raised  her  hand  deprecatingly,  and  when  he  had 
finished,  rejoined:  "You  mistake  Maj.  Stanley,  if  you 
think  he  would  marry  me,  knowing  what  I  should  tell 
him.  It's  not  for  him  that  I  refuse.  It's  for  myself.  1 
could  not  bear  it.     I  — " 

"  Stay,  Adah,  Lily,  don't  say  you  should  hate  me  ;"  and 
the  doctor's  voice  was  so  full  of  anguish  that  Adah  involun- 
tarily advanced  toward  him,  standing  quite  near,  while  he 
begged  of  her  to  say  if  the  past  could  not  be  forgoten. 
His  family  were  anxious  to  receive  her.  Sweet  Anna 
,Millbrook  already  loved  her  as  a  sister,  while  he,  her 
husband,  words  could  not  tell  his  love  for  her.  He  would 
do  whatever  she  required  ;  go  back  to  the  Federal  army 
if  she  said  so;  seek  for  the  pardon  he  was  sure  to  gain; 
fight  for  his  country  like  a  hero,  periling  life  and  limb,  if 
she  would  only  give  him  the  shadow  of  a  hope. 

"I  must  have  time  to  think.     I  cannot  decide  alone,' 


THE    DESERTEB.  839 

Adah  answered,  while  the  doctor  clutched  her  dress,  half 
shrieking  with  terror, 

"  You  surely  will  not  consult  Major  Stanley  ?  " 

"  JNTo,"  and  Adah  spoke  reverently,  "  there's  a  mightier 
friend  than  he.  One  who  has  never  failed  me  in  my  need 
lie  will  tell  me  what  to  do  " 

The  doctor  knew  now  what  she  meant,  and  with  a  moan 
he  laid  his  head  again  upon  the  hay,  wishing,  so  much 
that  the  lessons  taught  him  when  in  that  little  attic  cham 
ber,  years  ago,  he  knelt  by  Adah's  side,  and  said  with  her, 
"  Our  Father,"  had  not  been  all  forgotten.  When  he 
lifted  up  his  face  again,  Adah  was  gone,  but  he  knew  she 
would  return,  and  waited  patiently  while  just  outside  the 
door,  with  her  fair  face  buried  in  the  sweet  Virginia 
grass,  and  the  warm  summer  sunshine  falling  softly  upon 
her,  poor  half-crazed  Adah  fought  and  won  the  fiercest 
battle  she  had  ever  known,  coming  off  conqueror  over  selt] 
and  feeling  sure  that  God  had  heard  her  earnest  cry  for 
help,  and  told  her  what  to  do.  There  was  no  wavering 
now ;  her  step  was  firm ;  her  voice  steady,  as  she  went 
back  to  the  doctor's  side,  and  bending  over  him,  said, 

"  1  will  nurse  you,  till  you  are  well ;  then  you  must  go 
back  whence  you  came,  confess  your  fault,  rejoin  your  reg- 
iment, and  by  your  faithfulness  wipe  out  the  stain  of  de- 
sertion. Then,  when  the  war  is  over,  or  you  are  honora- 
bly discharged,  I  will  —  be  your  wife.  I  may  not  love 
you  at  first  as  once  I  did,  but  I  shall  try,  and  He,  who 
counsels  me  to  tell  you  this  will  help  me,  I  am  sure." 

It  was  almost  pitiful  now  to  see  the  doctor,  as  he  crouch- 
ed at  Adah's  feet,  kissing  her  hands  and  blessing  her 
'mid  his  tears.  "  He  would  be  worthy  of  her,  and  they 
should  yet  be  so  happy." 

Adah  suffered  him  to  caress  her  for  a  moment,  and 
then  told  him  she  must  go,  for  Mrs.  Ellsworth  would 
wonder  at  her  long  absence,  and  possibly  institute  a 
•earch.     Pressing  one  more  kiss  upon  her  hand  the  doc- 


340  HUGH    WORTHINGTON. 

tor  crept  back  to  his  hiding  place,  while  Adah  went  slow- 
ly back  to  the  house  wlicre  she  knew  Irving  Stanley  was 
anxiously  waiting  for  her.  Slie  dared  not  meet  him  alone 
now,  for  latterly  each  time  they  had  so  met,  she  had  kept 
at  bay  the  declaration  trembling  on  his  lips,  and  which 
must  never  be  listened  to.  So  she  staid  away  from  the 
pleasant  parlor  where  all  the  morning  he  sat  chatting 
with  his  sister,  who  guessed  how  much  he  loved  the  beau- 
tiful and  accomplished  girl,  her  daughter's  governess. 

Right-minded  and  high-principled,  Mrs.  Ellsworth  had 
conquered  any  pride  she  might  at  first  have  felt —  any  re- 
luctance to  her  brother's  marrying  her  governess,  and 
now  like  him  was  anxious  to  have  it  settled.  But  Adah 
gavB  him  no  chance  that  day,  and  late  in  the  afternoon 
he  rode  back  to  his  regiment  wondering  at  the  change  in 
Miss  Gordon,  and  why  her  face  was  so  deadly  white,  and 
her  voice  so  husky,  as  she  bade  him  good-bye. 

Poor  Adah  !  Heis  was  now  a  path  of  suiFering,  such 
as  she  had  never  known  before.  But  she  did  her  duty  to 
the  doctor,  nursing  him  with  the  utmost  care ;  but  never 
expressing  to  him  the  affection  she  did  not  feel.  It  was 
impossible  to  keep  his  presence  there  a  secret  from  the 
two  old  negroes,  and  knowing  she  could  trust  them,  she 
vold  them  of  the  wounded  Union  soldier,  enlisting  their 
sympathies  for  him,  and  thus  procuring  for  him  the  pare 
of  older  and  more  experienced  people  than  herself. 

He  was  able  at  length  to  return,  and  one  pleasant  sura 
mer  night,  just  three  weeks  after  his  arrival  at  Sunnymead, 
Adah  walked  with  him  to  the  woods,  and  kneeling  with 
^im  by  a  running  stream,  whose  waters  farther  away 
/rould  yet  be  crimson  with  the  blood  of  our  slaughtered 
bruiners,  she  commended  him  to  God.  Through  the  leafy 
branches  the  moon-beams  were  shining,  and  they  show- 
ed to  Adah  the  expression  of  tlie  doctor's  wasted  face,  as 
he  said  to  her  at  parting,  "  I  have  kissed  you  many  times, 
aiy  darling,  but  you  have  never  returned  it.     Please  do 


THE    SECOND    BATTLE    OF    BULL   RUN.  341 

BO  once,  for  fhe  sake  of  the  olden  time.    It  mil  make  me 
a  better  soldier." 

She  kissed  him  once  for  the  sake  of  the  olden  time,  and 
when  he  whispered,  "  Again  for  Willie's  sake,"  she  kissed 
him  twice,  and  then  she  bade  him  leave  her,  herself  but- 
oning  about  him  the  soldier  coat  which  her  own  handi 
had  cleaned  and  mended  and  made  respectable.  She  was 
glad  afterward  that  she  had  done  so;  glad,  too,  that  she 
had  kissed  him  and  waited  by  the  tree,  where,  looking 
backward,  he  could  see  the  flutter  of  her  white  dress  un- 
til a  turn  in  the  forest  path  hid  her  from  his  view. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

THE    SECOND    BATTLE    OF   BTJLL   RUN. 

The  second  disastrous  battle  of  Bull  Run  was  over, 
and  the  shadow  of  a  summer  night  wrapped  the  field  of 
carnage  in  darkness.  Thickly  upon  the  battle  field  lay 
the  dead  arid  dying,  the  sharp,  bitter  cries  of  the  latter 
rising  on  the  night  wind,  and  adding  tenfold  to  the  horror 
of  the  scene.  In  the  woods,  not  very  far  away,  more 
than  one  brave  soldier  was  weltering  in  his  life-blood,  just 
where,  in  his  i-apid  flight,  he  had  fallen,  the  grass  his  pil- 
low, and  the  leafy  branches  of  the  forest  trees  his  only 
covering. 

Near  to  a  running  brook  one  wounded  man  was  sup- 
porting another  and  trying  to  staunch  the  purple  goie, 
pouring  darkly  from  a  fearful  bullet  wound  in  the  region 
of  the  heart.  The  stronger  of  the  two,  he  who  wore  a 
major's  uniform,  had  come  accidentally  upon  the  other, 
writhing  in  agony,  and  muttering  at  intervals  snatches  of  the 
prayer  with  which  he  once  had  been  familiar,  and  which 
geemed  to  bring  Xili/  back  to  him  again,  just  as  she  waa 


342  HUGH    WORTHINGTOX. 

when  in  the  attic  chamber  she  made  him  kneel  by  her,  and 
say  "  Our  Father."  He  tried  to  say  it  now,  and  the  whis- 
pered words  caught  the  ear  of  Irving  Stanley,  arresting 
his  steps  at  once. 

**  Poor  fellow  !  it's  gone  hard  with  yon,"  he  said,  kneel- 
in""  by  the  suflerer,  whom  he  recognized  as  the  deserter 
Dr.  Richards^  who  had  returned  to  his  allegiance,  had* 
craved  forgiveness  for  his  sins,  and  been  restored  to  the 
ranks,  discharging  his  duties  faithfully,  and  fighting  that 
day  With  a  zeal  and  energy  which  did  much  in  reinstating 
him  in  the  good  opinion  of  those  who  witnessed  his  dar- 
ing bravery. 

Bat  the  doctor's  work  was  done,  and  never  from  his 
lips  would  Lily  know  how  well  his  promise  had  been 
kept.  Giddy  with  pain  and  weak  from  the  loss  of  blood, 
he  liad  groped  his  way  through  the  woods,  fighting  back 
the  horrid  certainty  that  to-morrow's  sun  would  not  rise 
for  him,  and  sinking  at  length  exhausted  upon  the  grass, 
whose  fi-eshness  was  now  defaced  by  the  blood  which 
poured  so  freely  from  his  wound. 

It  was  thus  that  Irving  Stanley  found  him,  starting  at  first 
as  from  a  hissing  shell,  and  involuntarily  clasping  his 
hand  over  the  place  where  lay  a  little  note,  received  a 
few  days  before,  a  reply  to  the  earnest  declaration  of  love 
he  had  at  last  written  to  his  sister's  governess.  There 
was  but  one  alternative,  and  Adah  met  it  resolutely,  though 
every  fibre  of  her  heart  throbbed  with  keen  agony  as  she 
told  to  Irving  Stanley  the  story  of  her  life.  She  was  a 
■wife,  a  mother,  the  sister  of  Hugh  Woilhington,  they 
paid,  the  Adah  for  whom  Dr.  Richards  had  sought  so  long 
in  vain,  and  for  whom  Murdoch,  the  wicked  father,  waa ' 
seeking  still  for  aught  she  knew  to  the  contrary.  •  Evm 
the  story  of  the  d.octor's  secretion  in  the  barn  at  Sunnay- 
raead  was  confessed.  Nothing  was  T\4thheld  except  tlie 
fact  that  even  as  he  professed  to  love  her,  so  she  in  turn 
loved  him,  or  had  done  so  before  she  knew  it  was  a  sin. 


THE    SECOND    BATTLE    OF   BULL   KUN.  343 

Suii>iise  had,  for  a  few  moments  stifled  every  other  emo- 
tion, and  Irving  Stanley  sat  like  one  suddenly  bereft  of 
life,  when  he  read  who  Adah  was.  Then  came  the  bitter 
thought  that  he  had  lost  her,  mingled  with  a  deep  feeling 
of  resentment  towards  the  man  who  had  so  cruelly  wrong 
ed  the  gentle  girl,  and  who  alone  stood  between  him  and 
happiness.  For  Irving  Stanley  could  overlook  all  the 
rest.  His  great  warm  heart,  so  full  of  kindly  sympathy 
and  generous  charity  for  all  mankind  could  take  to  its 
embrace  the  fair  sweet  woman  he  had  learned  to  love 
so  much,  and  be  a  father  to  her  little  boy,  as  if  it  had 
been  his  own.  But  this  might  not  be.  There  was  a 
mighty  obstacle  in  the  way,  and  feeling  that  it  mattered 
little  now  whether  he  ever  came  from  the  field  alive,  Ir- 
ving Stanley,  with  a  whispered  prayer  for  strength  to  bear 
and  do  right,  had  hidden  the  letter  in  his  bosom,  and  then, 
when  the  hour  of  conflict  came,  plunged  into  the  thickest 
of  the  fight  with  a  fearlessness  born  of  keen  and  recent 
disappointment,  which  made  life  less  valuable  than  it  had 
been  before. 

It  is  not  strange,  then,  that  he  should  start  and  stagger 
backward  when  he  came  so  suddenly  upon  the  doctor,  or 
that  the  first  impulse  of  weak  human  nature  was  to  leave 
the  fallenmian ;  but  the  second,  the  Christian  impulse,  bade 
him  stay,  and  forgetting  his  own  slight  but  painful  wound, 
he  bent  over  Adali's  husband,  and  did  what  he  could  to 
alleviate  the  anguish  he  saw  was  so  hard  to  bear.  At 
the  sound  of  his  voice,  a  spasm  of  pain  passed  over  the 
doctor's  pallid  face,  and  the  flash  of  a  sudden  fire  gleamed 
■for  a  moment  in  his  eye,  as  he,  too,  remembered  Adah^ 
and  thought  of  what  might  be  when  the  grass  was  grow 
ing  over  his  untimely  grave. 

The  doctor  knew  that  he  was  dying,  and  yet  his  first 
question  was  — 

"  Do  you  think  I  can  live  ?     Did  any  one  ever  recover 
with  such  a  wound  as  this  ?  " 


344  HUGH    TVOETHINGTON". 

Eagerly  the  dim  eyes  sought  tlie  face  above  them,  the 
kind,  good  face  of  one  who  would  not  deceive  him.  Ir- 
ving shook  his  head  as  he  felt  the  pulse,  and  answered  frank- 

ly. 

*•  I  believe  you  will  die." 

There  was  a  bitter  moan,  as  all  his  misspent  .ife  came 
uj;  before  him,  followed  closely  by  the  dark  future,  where 
there  shone  no  ray  of  hope,  and  then  with  the  desperate 
thought,  "  It's  too  late  now  for  regrets.  I'll  meet  it  like 
a  man,"  he  said, 

"  It  may  as  well  be  I  as  any  one,  though  it's  hard  even 
for  me  to  die  ;  harder  than  you  imagine  ;  "  then,  growing 
excited  as  he  talked,  he  raised  himself  upon  his  elbow, 
and  conthmed,  "Major  Stanley,  tell  me  truly,  do  you  love 
the  woman  you  know  as  Adah  Gordon  ?  " 

"  I  did  love  her  before  I  knew  I  must  not  —  but  now 
—  I  —  yes.  Dr.  Richards,  my  heart  tells  me  that  never 
was  she  so  dear  to  me  as  now  when  her  husband  lies  dy- 
ing at  my  side." 

Irving  Stanley  hardly  knew  what  he  was  saying,  but 
the  doctor  understood,  and  almost  shrieked  out  the 
words, 

"  You  know  then  that  she  is  Adah,  a  wife,  a  mother^ 
and  that  I  am  her  lawful  husband  ?  " 

"I  know  the  whole,"  was  the  reply,  as  with  his  hand 
Irving  dipped  water  from  the  brook  and  laved  the  fever- 
ish brow  of  the  dying  man,  who  went  on  to  speak  of 
Adah  as  she  was  when  he  first  knew  her,  and  of  the  few 
happy  months  spent  with  her  in  those  humble  lodgings. 

"  You  don't  know  my  darling,"  he  whispered.  "  She's 
an  angel,  and  I  might  have  been  so  happy  with  her.  Oh, 
if  I  could  only  live,  but  that  can't  be  now,  and  it  is  well. 
Come  close  to  me.  Major  Stanley,  and  listen  while  I  tell 
you  that  Adah  promised  if  I  would  do  my  duty  to  my 
country  faithfully,  she  would  live  with  me  again,  and  all 
the  while  she  promised,  her  heart  was  breaking,  for  she 


THE    SECOND    BATTLE    OF    BULL   RUN.  345 

did  not  love  me.  It  had  all  died  out  for  me.  It  had  been 
given  to  another ;  can  you  guess  to  whom  ?  " 

Irving  made  no  reply,  except  to  chafe  the  hands  which 
clasped  his  so  tightly,  and  the  doctor  continued, 

«  I  am  surely  dying  —  I  shall  never  see  her  more,  or  my 
benntiful  boy.  I  was  a  brute  in  the  cars;  you  n^member 
llie  time.  That  was  Adah,  and  those  little  feet  resting 
on  my  lap  were  Willie's,  baby  Wi^^^^'s,  Adah's  baby."       ^ 

The  doctor's  mind  was  wandering  now,  and  he  kept  oa 
disconnectedly, 

"  She's  been  to  Europe  with  him.  She's  changed  from 
the  shy  girl  into  a  queenly  woman.  Even  the  Richards 
line  might  be  proud  of  her  bearing,  and  when  I'm  gone, 
tell  her  I  said  you  might  have  Willie,  and  —  and  —  it 
grows  very  dark ;  the  noise  of  the  battle  drowns  my  voice, 
but  come  nearer  to  me,  nearer  —  tell  her  —  tell  Adah,  you 
may  have  her.  She  needn't  mourn,  nor  wait ;  but  caiTy 
me  back  to  Snowdon.  There's  no  soldier's  grave  there 
yet.  I  never  thought  mine  would  be  the  first.  Anna 
will  cry,  and  mother  and  Asenath  and  Eudora  ;  but  Adah, 
oh  Lily,  darling,  fehe's  coming  to  me  now.  Don't  you 
hear  that  rustle  in  the  grass  ?  "  and  the  doctor  listened  in- 
tently to  a  sound  which  also  caught  Irving's  ear,  a  sound 
of  a  horse's  neigh  in  the  distance,  followed  by  a  tramp  of 
feet." 

"  Hush-sh,"  he  whispered.  « It  may  be  the  enemy,"  but 
his  words  were  not  regarded,  or  understood. 

The  doctor  was  in  Lily's  presence,  and  in  fmcy  it  was 
her  hand,  not  Irving's  which  wiped  the  death-sweat  from 
lis  brow,  and  he  murmured  words  of  love  and  fond  en- 
dearment, as  to  a  living,  breathing  form.  Fainter  and 
Ciiuter  grew  the  pulse,  weaker  and  weaker  grew  the  trem- 
bling A  oice,  until  at  last  Irving  could  only  comprehend 
that  some  one  was  bidden  topray  — tosay  "  Our  Father." 

Reverently,  as  for  a  departing  brother,  he  prayed  over 
15* 


846  HUGH    WORTIIINGTON. 

the  dying  man,  asking  that  all  the  past  miglit  be  forgiven^ 
and  that  the  erring  might  rest  at  last  in  peaoe. 

"  Say  Amen  for  me,  Fm  too  weak,"  the  doctor  whisper 
ed ;  then,  as  reason  asserted  her  sway  again,  he  continued 
^  J  see  it  now  ;  Lily's  gone,  and  I  am  dying  here  in  the 
wjods,  in  the  dark,  in  the  night,  on  the  ground  ;  cared  for 
by  you  who  will  be  Lily's  husband.  You  may,  you  may, 
tell  her  I  said  so ;  tell  her  kiss  my  boy  ;  love  him.  Major 
Stanley ;  love  him  as  your  own,  even  though  others  shall 
call  you  father.     Tell  her  —  I  tried  —  to  pray  —  " 

He  never  spoke  again ;  and  when  next  the  thick,  black, 
clotted  blood  oozed  up  from  the  gaping  wound,  it  brought 
with  it  all  there  was  of  life ;  and  there  in  those  Virginia 
woods,  in  the  darkness  of  the  night,  Irving  Stanley  sat 
alone  with  the  dead.  And  yet  not  alone,  for  away  to  his 
right,  and  where  the  neigh  of  a  horse  had  been  heard, 
another  wounded  soldier  lay  —  his  soft,  brown  locks  moist 
w'ith  dew,  and  his  captain's  uniform  wet  with  the  blood 
which  dripped  from  the  terrible  gash  in  the  fleshy  part  of 
the  neck,  where  a  murderous  ball  bad  been.  One  arm, 
the  right  one,  was  broken,  and  lay  disabled  upon  the 
grass;  while  the  hand  of  the  other  clutched  occasionally 
at  the  damp  grass,  and  then  lifting  itself,  stroked  caress- 
ingly the  powerful  limbs  of  the  faithful  creature  standing 
guard  over  the  prostrate  form  of  his  master. 

Hugh  and  Rocket !  They  had  been  in  many  battles, 
and  neither  shot  nor  shell  had  harmed  them  until  to-day, 
when  Hugh  had  received  the  charge  which  sent  him  reel- 
ing from  his  horse,  breaking  his  arm  in  the  fall,  and  scarce- 
ly conscious  that  two  of  his  comrades  were  leading  him 
from  the  field.  How  or  by  what  means  he  afterwards 
reached  the  woods,  he  did  not  know,  but  reached  them  lie 
had,  and  unable  to  travel  further,  he  had  fallen  to  the 
ground,  where  he  lay,  until  Rocket  came  galloping  near, 
riderless,  frightened,  and  looking  for  his  master.  With  a 
cry  of  joy  the  noble  brute  answered  that  master'?  faint 


HUGH    AND    SAM.  347 

wliistle,  bounding  at  once  to  his  side,  and  by  many  mute 
but  meaning  signs,  signifying  his  desire  that  Hugh  should 
mount  as  heretofore. 

But  Hugli  was  too  weak  for  that,  and  after  several 
iL  effectual  efforts  to  rise,  fell  back  half  fainting  on  the  turf; 
while  Rocket  took  his  stand  directly  over  him,  a  powerful  , 
and  efficient  guard  until  help  from  some  quarter  should 
arrive.  Patiently,  faithfully  he  stood,  waiting  as  quietly 
as  if  he  knew  that  aid  was  coming,  not  far  away,  in  the 
form  of  an  old  man,  whose  hair  was  white  as  snow,  and 
whose  steps  were  feeble  witli  age,  but  who  had  the  ad- 
vantage of  knowing  every  inch  of  that  ground,  for  he  had 
trodden  it  many  a  time,  with  a  homesick  heart  which  pined 
for  "  old  Kentuck,"  whence  he  had  been  stolen. 

Uncle  Sam  !  He  it  was  whose  uncertain  steps  made 
Rocket  prick  up  his  ears  and  listen,  neighing  at  last  a 
neigh  of  welcome,  by  which  he,  too,  was  recognized. 

"De  dear  Father  be  praised  if  that  be'nt  Rocket  hisself. 
I've  found  him,  I've  fovmd  my  Massah  Hu^h.  I  tole  Miss 
Ellis  I  should,  'case  I  knows  all  de  way.  Dear  Massah 
Hugh,  I'se  Sanh  I  i^,"  and  with  a  convulsive  sob  the  old 
negro  knelt  beside  the  white-faced  man  who,  but  for  this 
timely  aid,  could  hardly  have  survived  that  fearful  night. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

HUGH     AND    SAM. 


It  is  more  than  a  year  now  since  last  we  looked  in  ipon 
the  inmates  of  Spring  Bank,  and  during  that  time  Kentuc- 
ky had  been  the  scene  of  violence,  murder,  and  bloodshed. 
The  roar  of  artillery  had  been  heard  upon  its  hills.  Sol- 
diers wearing  the  Federal  uniform  had  marched  up  and 


348  HUGH   "VfOBTHINGTON. 

down  its  beaten  paths,  encamping  for  a  brief  season  in 
its  capital,  and  then  departing  to  other  points  where  their 
services  were  needed  more. 

Morgan,  with  his  fierce  band  of  guerilLas,  had  carried 
terror,  dismay,  and  sometimes  death,  to  many  a  peaceful 
home  ;  while  Harney^  too,  disdaining  open,  honorable  war- 
Hire,  had  joined  himself,  it  was  said,  to  a  horde  of  savage 
marauders,  gathered,  some  from  Texas,  some  from  Mis- 
sissippi, and  a  few  from  Tennessee  ;  but  none,  to  her  credit 
be  it  said,  none  from  Kentucky,  save  their  chief,  the  JRebeX 
Harney^  who,  despised  and  dreaded  almost  equally  by 
Unionists  and  Confederates,  kept  the  country  between 
Louisville  and  Lexington  in  a  constant  state  of  excite- 
ment. 

As  the  stonn  grew  blacker,  it  had  seemed  necessary  for 
Colonel  Tiifton  openly  to  avow  his  sentiments,  and  not 
"  sneak  between  two  fires,  for  fear  of  being  burned,"  as 
Harney  wolfishly  told  him  one  day,  taunting  him  with 
being  a  "  villainous  Yankee,"  and  hinting  darkly  of  the 
punishment  preparing  for  all  such. 

The  colonel  was  not  cowardly,  but,  as  was  natural,  he 
did  lean  to  the  Confederacy.  "Peaceful  separation,  if 
possible,"  was  his  creed ;  and  fully  believing  the  South 
destined  to  triumph,  he  took  that  side  at  last,  greatly  to 
the  delight  of  his  high-spirited  Xell,  who  had  been  a  Rebel 
from  the  first.  With  a  look  of  reproach  which. the  Colonel 
never  forgot,  Alice  Johnson  listened  to  his  reasons  for 
joining  himself  with  the  Secessionists,  but  when  at  the 
close  of  his  arguments  he  kindly  advised  her  to  be  a  little 
more  careful  in  expressing  her  opinions,  saying  there  was 
no  knowing  what  Harney,  who  was  known  to  be  bitterly 
prejudiced  against  Spring  Bank,  might  be  tempted  to  do, 
her  blue  eyes  flashed  proudly  as  she  replied,  "  I  should  be 
unworthy  of  the  state  which  gave  me  birth,  were  I  afraid 
to  say  what  I  think.  No,  I  am  not  afraid  ;  and  should 
Harney,  with  his  whole  band  of  marauders,  attack  our 


HUGH   AND    SAM.  349 

noase,  he  will  find  at  least  one  who  is  not  a  coward.  I 
would  not  deny  my  country  to  save  my  life.  Still,  I  do 
not  think  it  right  to  expose  myself  unnecessarily  to  dan- 
ger, and  as  Mrs.  Worthington  is  very  timid,  and  Tery 
anxiDus  to  go  ;N"orth,  where  there  is  safety,  I  too  have 
concluded  that  it  is  best  to  leave  Spring  Bank  for  a  time. 
Aunt  Eunice,  who  is  afraid  of  nothing,  will  remain  in 
charge  of  the  house,  while  you,  we  hope,  will  have  a  caro 
for  the  negroes  until  we  return,  or  Hugh,  if  that  time 
ever  comes,"  and  Alice's  voice  trembled  as  she  thought 
how  long  it  was  since  they  had  heard  from  Hugh,  three 
months  having  elapsed  since  a  word  had  come  to- thorn 
from  him. 

Col.  TiCton  was  glad  Alice  was  going  l^orth,  for  in 
those  excited  times  he  knew  not  what  harm  might  befall 
her,  alone  and  unprotected  as  she  was  at  Spring  Bank. 
He  would  willingly  take  charge  of  the  negroes,  he  said, 
and  he  kindly  ofiered  to  do  whatever  he  could  to  expe- 
dite her  departure.  Alice  would  not  confess  to  him  that 
the  great  object  of  her  going  North  was  the  hope  she  had 
of  being  nearer  Hugh,  for  it  was  arranged  between  her- 
self and  Mrs.  Worthington  that,  after  stopping  for  a  few- 
days  in  Snowdon  they  should  go  on  to  Washington  where 
some  tidings  might  be  received  of  the  soldier,  and  where 
they  might  perhaps  hear  from  Aflah,  who  had  not  yet 
been  found.  This  was  Alice's  plan,  and  after  receiving 
the  Colonel's  approbation,  she  communicated  it  to  the  ne- 
groes, telling  it  first  to  Sam,  who  begged  earnestly  to  go 
with  her. 

\  « Don't  leave  me,  Miss  Ellis.  Take  me  'long,  please 
take  me  to  Massah  Hugh.  I'se  quite  peart  now,  and  kin 
kjok  after  Miss  Ellis  a  heap." 

Ali<;e  could  not  promise  till  she  had  talked  with  Mrs. 
Worthington,  who  offered  no  objection,  and  it  was  arrang- 
ed that  with  Densie,  Sam,  and  Lulu,  they  should  start  at 
once  for  Snowdon.     Accordingly,  one  week  after  Alice's 


350  HUGH   WORTHINGTOW. 

conversation  with  Col.  Tiflfton  she  bade  adieu  to  Spring 
Bank  and  was  on  her  way  to  the  North,  where  there  wai 
safety  and  quiet. 

**♦♦♦♦ 

Anna  Millbrook's  eyes  were  dim  with  tears,  and  her 
heirt  was  sore  with  pain,  when  told  that  Alice  Johnson 
was  waiting  for  her  in  the  parlor  below.  Only  the  day 
bcf  ►re  had  she  heard  of  her  brother's  disgrace,  feeling  aa 
abfr  heard  it,  how  much  rather  she  would  that  he  had  died 
ere  there  were  so  many  stains  upon  his  name.  But  Alice 
would  comfort  her,  and  she  hastened  to  meet  her.  Sit- 
ting down  beside  her,  she  talked  with  her  long  of  all  that 
had  transpired  since  last  they  met ;  talked  of  Adah,  and 
then  of  Willie,  who  at  Alice's  request,  was  taken  l?y  her  to 
the  hotel,  where  Mrs.  Woithington  was  stopping.  He 
had  grown  to  be  a  most  beautiful  and  engaging  child, 
and  Mrs.  Worthington  justly  felt  a  thrill  of  pride  as  she 
clasped  him  to  her  bosom,  weeping  over  him  passionately. 
She  could  scarcely  bear  to  lose  him  from  her  sight,  and 
when  later  in  the  day  Anna  came  doAvn  for  him,  she  beg- 
ged hard  for  him  to  stay.  But  Willie  preferred  returning 
with  Mrs.  Millbrook,  who  promised  that  he  should  come 
every  day  so  long  as  Mrs.  Worthington  remained  at  the 
hotel. 

As  soon  as  Mrs  Richards  learned  that  Mrs.  Worthing- 
ton and  Alice  were  in  town,  she  insisted  upon  their  com- 
ing to  Terrace  Hill.  There  were  the  pleasant  chambers 
fitted  up  for  'Lina,  they  had  never  been  occupied,  and 
Mrs.  Worthington  could  have  them  as  well  as  not ;  or 
better  yet  —  could  take  Anna's  old  chamber,  with  the  lit. 
tie  room  adjoining,  where  Adah  used  to  sleep.  Mrs. 
Worthington  preferred  the  latter,  and  removed  with  Al- 
ice to  Terrace  Hill,  while  at  Anna's  request  Densie  went 
to  Riverside  Cottage,  where  she  used  to  live,  and  where 
she  was  much  happier  than  she  would  have  been  with 
Btranorers. 


HUGH    AND    SAM.  351 

Not  long  however  could  Mrs.  Worthin^ton  remain  con- 
*.entedly  at  Snowdon,  and  after  a  time  Alice  started  with 
her  and  Lulu  for  Washington,  taking  with  them  Sam,  who 
seemed  a  perfect  child  in  his  delight  at  the  prospect  of 
seeing  "  Massah  Hugh."  From  a  soldier  returning  horn 
on  fm'lough  they  heard  that  he  was  with  his  Regiment 
but  to  see  him  was  not  so  easy  a  matter.  Indeed,  he* 
seemed  farther  off  at  Washington  than  he  had  done  a< 
Spring  Bank,  and  Alice  sometimes  questioned  the  propri- 
ety  of  having  left  Kentucky  at  all.  They  were  not  very 
comfortable  at  Washington,  and  as  Mrs.  Worthington 
pined  for  the  pure  country  air,  Alice  managed  at  last  to 
procure  board  at  the  house  of  a  friend  whose  acquaintance 
she  had  made  at  the  time  of  her  visits  to  Virginia.  It  was 
some  distance  from  Washington,  and  so  near  to  Bull  Run 
that  when  at  last  the  second  battle  was  fought  in  that 
vicinity,  the  roar  of  the  artillery  was  distinctly  heard, 
and  they  who  listened  to  the  noise  of  that  bloody  conflict 
knew  just  when  the  battle  ceased,  and  thought  with  tearful 
anguish  of  the  poor,  maimed,  suffering  w^retches  left  to 
bleed  and  die  alone.  They  knew  Hugh  must  have  been 
in  the  battle,  and  Mrs.  Worth ington's  anxiety  amounted 
almost  to  insanity,  while  Alice,  with  blanched  cheek  and 
compressed  lip,  could  only  pray  silently  that  he  might  be 
spared.     Only  Sam  thought  of  acting. 

"  Now  is  my  time,"  he  said  to  Alice,  as  they  stood  talk- 
ing together  of  Hugh,  and  wondering  if  he  were  safe. 
"  Something  tell  me  Massah  Hugh  is  hurted  soraewhar, 
aud  I'se  gwine  to  find  him.  I  knows  all  de  way,  an'  every 
tree  round  dat  place.  I  can  hide  from  de  'Federacy, 
Dem  Rebels  let  ole  white-har'd  nigger  look  for  young 
massah,  and  Fse  gwine.  P'raps  I  not  find  him,  but 
does  somebody  some  good.  I  helps  somebody's  Massali 
Hugh." 

It  seemed  a  crazy  project,  letting  that  old  man  start  oflT 
on  80  strange  an  errand,  but  Sam  was  determined. 


352  HUGH   WOETniNGTON. 

"He  had  a 'sentiment,"  as  he  saitl,  "  tlint  ITugh  was 
wounded,  and  he  must  go  to  him." 

In  his  presentiment  Alice  had  no  faith  ;  but  she  did 
not  oppose  him,  and  at  parting  she  said  to  him  licsitating- 

"Sam, —  did  you, —  do  you, —  has  it  ever  occurred  to 
you  that  your  master  cared  particularly  for  me  ; —  that  is, 

—  cared, —  you  know  how,"  and  Alice  blushed  scar.et 
while  Sam  replied  eagerly,  "  Yes,  Miss,  Sam  got  mizzablo 
memory,  but  he  knows  dat  ar,  and  it  passes  him  what 
Massah  Hugh  done  jine  de  army  for,  when  he  might  stay 
home  and  haved  Miss  Ellis  just  as  Sam  pray  he  might  so 
long.  Massah  Hugh  and  Miss  Ellis  make  good  span.  I 
teirMnssah.     Shall  I  ?  " 

"  Not  unless  you  find  him  wounded  and  believe  him 
dying,  then,  you  may  tell  him, —  tell  him  —  that  I  said 

—  I  loved  him;  and  had  he  ever  come  back,  I  would  have 
been  liis  M'ife." 

"  I  tells  liim,"  was  Sam's  reply,  as  he  departed  on  his 
errand  of  mercy,  which  proved  not  to  be  a  fruitless  one, 
for  he  did  find  his  master,  and  falling  on  his  knees  beside 
him,  uttered  the  joyful  words  we  have  before  repeated. 

To  the  faint,  half-dying  Hugh  that  familiar  voice  from 
home  and  that  dusky  form  bending  over  him  so  pityingly, 
seemed  more  like  a  dream  than  a  reality.  He  could  not 
comprehend  how  Sam  came  there,  or  what  he  was  saying 
to  him.  Something  he  heard  of  oleMiss  and  Snow-do^vn, 
and  Washington ;  but  nothing  was  real  until  he  caught 
the  name  of  Alice,  and  thought  Sam  said  she  was  there. 
•  "  Where,  Sam  —  where  ?  "  he  asked,  trying  to  raise 
himself  upon  his  elbow.     "Is  Alice  here,  did  you  sny  ?" 

"No,  massah  ;  not  'zactly  here — but  on  de  rond.  If 
massah  could  ride,  Sam  hold  him  on,  like  massah  oncet 
held  on  ole  Sam,  and  we'll  get  to  ner  directly.  They'a 
kind  o'  Secesh  folks  whar  she  is,  but  mighty  good  to  h(;r. 
She  knowed  'em  'fore,  'case  way  down  here  is  whir  Sam 


HUGH    AND    SAM.  .  353 

was  sold  dat  time  Miss  Ellis  corned  and  show  him  de  road 
to  Canaan.  Miss  Ellis  tell  me  somethin'  nice  for  Massah 
Hugh,  ef  he's  dyin' —  suffin  make  him  so  glad.  Is  you 
dyin',  massah  ?  " 

"  I  hardly  think  I  am  as  bad  as  that.  Can't  you  t(;ll 
unless  I  am  near  to  death?"  Hugh  said  ;  and  Sam  repli- 
ed, 

"  No,  massah  ;  dem's  my  orders.  *  Ef  he's  dyin',  Sam 
tell  him  I' — dat's  what  she  say.  Maybe  you  is  dyin', 
massah.     Feel  and  see  !  " 

"  It's  possible,"  and  something  like  his  old  mischievous 
smile  played  round  Hugh's  white  lips  as  he  asked  how  a 
chap  felt  when  he  was  dying. 

"  I'se  got  mizzable  mem'ry,  and  I  don't  justly  'member,' 
was  Sam's  answer ;  "  but  I  reckons  he  feel  berry  queer  and 
choky  —  berry." 

"  That's  exactly  my  case,  so  you  may  venture  to  tell," 
Hugh  said  ;  and  getting  his  face  close  to  that  of  the  young 
man,  Sam  whispered  "  She  say,  '  Tell  massah  Hugh  —  I 
—  I' —  you's  sure  you's  dyin'  ?  " 

"  I'm  sure  I  feel  as  you  said  I  must,"  Hugh  replied, 
and  Sam  went  on.  "  '  Tell  him  I  loves  him  ;  and  ef  he 
lives  I'll  be  his  wife.'  Dem's  her  very  words,  nigh  as  I 
can  'member  —  but  what  is  massah  goin'  to  do  "  he  con- 
tinued, in  some  surprise,  as  Hugh  attempted  to  rise. 

"  Do,  I'm  going  to  Alice,"  was  Hugh's  reply,  as  with  a 
moan  he  sank  back  again,  too  weak  to  rise  alone. 

"Then  you  be'nt  dyin',  after  all,"  was  Sam's  rueful 
comment,  as  he  suggested,  "  Ef  massah  only  clamber  onto 
liocket." 

This  was  easier  proposed  than  done,  but  after  several 
trials  Hugh  succeeded ;  and,  with  Sam  steadying  him 
while  he  half  lay  on  Rocket's  neck,  he  proceeded  slow- 
ly and  safely  through  the  woods,  meeting  at  last  with 
some  Unionists,  who  gave  him  what  aid  they  coidd,  and 
did  not  leave  him  until  they  saw  him  safely  deposited  in 


354  HUGH   WORTHINGTON". 

an  ambulance,  which,  in  spite  of  his  entreaties,  took  him 
direct  to  Georgetown.  It  was  a  bitter  disappointment  to 
Hugh,  so  bitter,  indeed,  tliat  he  scarcely  felt  the  pain 
when  his  broken  arm  was  set;  and  when,  at  last,  he  waa 
left  alone  in  his  narrow  hospital  bed,  he  turned  his  face  to 
the  wall,  and  cried,  just  as  many  a  poor,  homesick  aoldiei 
had  done  before  him,  and  will  do  again. 


Twenty-four  hours  had  passed,  and  in  Hugli's  room  it 
was  growing  dark  again.  All  the  day  he  had  watched  anx" 
iously  the  door  through  which  visitors  would  enter,  asking 
repeatedly  if  no  one  had  called  for  him  ;  but  just  as  the 
sun  was  going  down  he  fell  away  to  sleep,  dreaming  at 
last  that  Golden  Hair  was  there  —  that  her  soft,  white 
hands  were  on  his  brow,  her  sweet  lips  pressed  to  his, 
while  her  dear  voice  murmured  softly,  "  Darling  Hugh  !  " 

There  was  a  cry  of  pain  from  a  distant  corner,  and 
Hugh  awoke  to  know  it  was  no  dream  —  the  soft  hands 
on  his  brow,  the  kiss  upon  his  lips  —  for  Golden  Hair  was 
there ;  and  by  the  tears  she  dropped  upon  his  face,  and 
the  caresses  she  gave  him,  he  knew  that  Sam  had  told 
him  truly.  For  several  minutes  there  was  silence  between 
them,  while  the  eyes  looked  into  each  other  with  a  deep, 
er  meaning  than  words  could  have  expressed;  then 
smoothing  back  his  damp  brown  hair,  and  letting  her  fin- 
gers still  rest  upon  his  forehead,  Alice  whispered  to  him, 
"  I  loved  you,  Hugh,  when  you  left  home,  and  I  hoped 
that  first  note  would  have  told  you  so.  I  wish  it  had,  for 
then  we  need  not  have  been  separated  so  long." 

Winding  his  well  arm  round  her  neck,  and  drawing  her 
neaver  to  him,  Hugh  answered, 

"  It  was  best  just  as  it  is.  Had  I  been  sure  of  your 
love,  I  should  have  found  it  harder  to  leave  home.  My 
country  needed  me.  I  am  glad  I  have  done  what  I  could 
to  defend  it.     Glad  that  I  joined  the  army,  for  Alice,  dar- 


GOING    HOME.  355 

ling,  Golden  Hair,  in  my  lonely  tent  reading  that  little 
Bible  you  gave  me  so  long  ago,  the  Saviour  found  me,  and 
now,  whether  I  live  or  not,  it  is  well,  for  if  I  die,  I  am 
sure  you  will  be  mine  in  Heaven ;  and  if  I  live " 

Alice  finished  the  sentence  for  him, 

"  If  you  live,  God  willing,  I  shall  be  your  wife.  Deal 
Hugh,  I  bless  the  Good  Father,  first  for  bringing  you  to 
Himself,  and  then  restoring  you  to  me." 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

GOING  HOME. 

The  village  hearse  was  waiting  at  Snowdon  depot,  and 
close  beside  it  stood  the  carriage  from  Terrace  Hill ;  the 
one  sent  there  for  Adah,  the  other  for  her  husband,  whose 
life-blood,  so  freely  shed,  had  wiped  away  all  stains  upon 
his  memory,  and  enshrined  him  in  the  hearts  of  Snowdon's 
people  as  a  martyr.  He  was  the  first  dead  soldier  returned 
to  them,  his  the  first  soldier's  grave  in  their  churchyard  ; 
and  so  a  goodly  throng  were  there,  with  plaintive  fife  and 
muffled  drum,  to  do  him  honor.  His  major  was  coming  with 
him,  it  was  said  —  Major  Stanley,  who  had  himself  been 
found  in  a  half-fainting  condition  watching  by  the  dead  — 
Major  Stanley,  who  had  seen  that  the  body  was  embalmed, 
had  written  to  the  wife,  and  had  attended  to  everything, 
even  to  coming  on  himself  by  way  of  showing  his  respect. 
Death  is  a  great  softener  of  errors  ;  and  the  village  people  i 
who  could  not  remember  a  time  w^hen  they  had  not  dis- 
liked John  Richards,  forgot  his  fiiults  now  that  he  waa 
dead. ^ 

It  seemed  a  long  time  waiting  for  the  train,  but  it  camo 
at  last,  and  the  crowd  involuntarily  made  a  movement 
forward,  and  then  drew  back  as  a  tall  figure  appeared  up 


356  HUGH    WORTIIIXGTON. 

ou  the  platform,  his  uniforin  betokening  an  officer  of  rank, 
and  his  manner  showing  plainly  that  he  was  master  of 
ceremonies. 

"Major  Stanley,"  ran  in  a  whisper  through  the  crowd, 
whose  wonder  increased  when  another,  and,  if  possible,  a 
finer-looking  man,  emergt^d  into  view,  his  right  arm  in  a 
fling,  and  his  face  pale  and  worn,  from  the  effects  of  receipt 
illness.  He  had  not  been  expected,  and  many  curious 
glances  were  cast  at  him  as,  slowly  descending  the  steps, 
he  gave  his  hand  to  IMrs.  Worthington  following  close 
behind.  They  knew  her,  and  recognized  also  the  two 
young  ladies,  Alice  and  Adah,  as  they  sprang  from  the  car. 
Poor  Adah  !  how  she  shrank  from  the  public  gaze,  shud- 
dering as,  on  her  way  to  the  carriage,  she  passed  the  long 
box  the  men  were  handling  so  carefully. 

Summoned  by  Irving  Stanley,  she  had  come  on  to 
Washington,  and  while  there,  had  learned  that  Mrs.  Wor- 
thington, Hugh,  and  Alice  were  all  in  Georgetown,  whither 
she  hastened  at  once.  Immediately  after  the  discovery 
of  her  i^arentage,  she  had  written  to  Kentucky,  but  the 
letter  had  not  reached  its  destination,  consequently  no 
one  but  Hugh  knew  how  near  she  was ;  and  he  had  only 
learned  it  a  few  days  before  the  battle,  when  he  had,  by 
accident,  a  few  moments'  conA-crsation  with  Dr.  Richards^ 
whom  he  had  purposely  avoided.  He  was  talking  of  Adah, 
and  the  practicability  of  sending  for  her,  when  she  arrived 
at  the  private  boarding-house  to  which  he  had  been  re- 
moved. 

The  particulars  of  that  interview  between  the  mother 

f  and  her  daughter  we  cannot  describe,  as  no  one  witnessed 

it  save  God  ;  but  Adah's  face  was  radiant  with  happiness, 

and  her  eyes  beaming  with  joy  when  it  was  ended,  and 

Bhe  went  next  to  where  Huo^h  was  waitino:  for  her. 

"  Oh,  Hugh,  my  noble  brother ! "  was  all  she  could  say, 
as  she  wound  her  arms  around  his  neck  and  pressed  her 
cheek  against  his  own,  forgetting,  in  those  moments  of 
perfect  bliss,  all  the  sorrow,  and  anguish  of  the  past. 


GOING    HOME.     .  357 

Nor  was  it  until  Hugh  said  to  her,  "  The  doctor  was  in 
tliat  battle,  did  be  escape  unharmed  ?  "  that  a  shadow 
dimmed  the  sunshine  flooding  her  pathway  that  autumn 
morn!  nor. 

o 

At  the  mention  of  Aim,  the  muscles  about  her  moutfe 
grew  rigid,  and  a  look  of  pain  flitted  across  her  face 
fliowing  that  there  was  yet  much  of  bitterness  mingled  iu 
her  cup  of  joy.  Composing  herself  as  soon  as  possible 
she  told  Hugh  that  she  was  a  widow,  but  uttered  no  word 
of  complaint  against  the  dead,  and  Hugh,  knowing  that 
she  could  not  sorrow  as  other  women  have  sorrowed  over 
the  loved  ones  slain  in  battle,  drew  her  nearer  to  him,  and 
kissing  her  tenderly,  said,  "  Your  home  shall  be  with  me 
and  Golden  Hair —  who  has  promised  to  be  my  wife." 

Then  he  asked  what  Major  Stanley's  plan  was  concern- 
ing the  body  of  her  husband,  and  upon  learning  that  it 
was  to  bury  the  doctor  at  home,  he  announced  his  de- 
termination to  accompany  them,  as  he  knew  he  should  be 
able  to  do  so. 

It  was  a  great  trial  to  Adah  to  face  the  crowd  they 
found  assembled  at  the  depot,  but  Irving,  Hugh,  and 
Alice  all  helped  to  screen  her  from  observation,  and  al- 
most before  she  wa§  aware  of  it  she  found  herself  safe  in 
the  carriage,  which  eflectually  hid  her  from  view.  Slow- 
ly the  procession  moved  through  the  village,  the  foot 
passengers  keeping  time  to  the  muffled  drum,  whose  sol- 
emn beats  had  never  till  that  morning  been  heard  in  the 
quiet  streets.  The  wide  gate  which  led  into  the  grounds 
of  Terrace  Hill  was  opened  wide,  and  the  black  hearse 
passed  in,  followed  by  the  other  carriages,  which  wound 
lound  the  hill  and  np  to  the  huge  building  where  badges 
of  mourning  were  hung  out  for  the  only  son,  the  young 
est  born,  the  once  pride  and  pet  of  the  stately  woman 
who  watched  the  coming  of  that  group  with  tear-dim 
eyes,  holding  ui)on  her  lap  the  little  boy  whose  father 
they  were  bringing  in,  dead,  cofiined  for  the  grave.     Not 


868  BUGH    WORTHING  TON. 

for  the  world  would  that  high-bred  woman  have  heeu 
guilty  of  an  impropriety,  and  so  slie  sat  in  her  own  room, 
while  Charlie  Millbrook  met  the  bearers  in  the  hall  and 
told  them  where  to  deposit  their  burden. 

In  the  same  room  where  we  first  saw  him  on  the  night 
of  his  return  from  Europe  they  left  him,  and  went  their 
way,  while  to  Dixon  and  Pamelia  was  accorded  the  h(  ncr 
of  first  welcoming  Adah,  whom  they  treated  with  as  much 
deference  as  if  she  had  never  been  with  them  in  any  ca- 
pacity save  that  of  mistress.  She  had  changed  since 
they  last  saw  her — was  wonderfully  improved,  they  said 
to  each  other  as  they  left  her  at  the  door  of  the  room, 
where  Mrs.  Richards,  with  her  two  older  daughters,  was 
waiting  to  receive  her.  But  if  the  servants  were  struck 
with  the  air  of  dignity  and  cultivation  which  Adah  ac- 
quired during  her  tour  in  Europe,  how  much  more  did 
this  same  air  impress  the  haughty  ladies  who  had  felt  a 
little  uncertain  as  to  how  they  should  receive  her.  Any 
doubts,  however,  which  they  had  upon  this  subject  were 
dispelled  the  moment  she  entered  the  room,  and  they 
saw  at  a  glance  that  it  was  not  the  timid,  shrinking  Adah 
Gordon  with  whom  they  had  to  deal,  but  a- woman  as  whol- 
ly self-possessed  as  themselves,  and  one  with  whose  bear- 
ing even  their  critical  eyes  would  find  no  fiult.  She 
would  not  sufter  them  to  patronize  her;  they  must  treat 
her  fully  as  an  equal  or  as  nothing,  and  with  a  new-bom 
feeling  of  pride  in  her  late  son's  widow,  Mrs.  Richards 
arose,  and  putting  Willie  from  her  lap,  advanced  to  meet 
her,  cordially  extending  her  hand,  but  uttering  no  word 
of  welcome.  Adah  took  the  hand,  but  her  ^yes  never 
sought  the  face  of  her  lady  mother.  They  were  riveted 
with  a  hungry,  wistful,  longing  look  on  Willie,  who,  cling- 
ing to  his  grandmother's  skirts,  peered  curiously  at  her, 
holding  back  at  first,  when,  unmindful  of  Asenath  and 
Eudora,  who  had  not  yet  been  greeted,  she  tried  to  take 
him  in  her  arras. 


GOING    HOME. 


859 


«« OL,  Willie,  darling,  don't  you  know  me  !  I  am  poor 
mam-ma,"  and  Adah's  voice  was  choked  with  sobs  at  this 
unlook€;d-for  reception  from  her  cliild. 

He  had  been  sent  for  from  Anna's  home  to  meet  his 
mother,  because  it  was  proper ;  but  no  one  at  Terrace 
flill  had  said  to  him  that  the  mamma  for  whom  Anna 
taught  him  daily  to  pray,  was  coming.  She  was  not  in 
liis  mind ;  and  as  eighteen  months  had  obliterated  al) 
memories  of  the  girlish  creature  he  once  knew  as  moth- 
er,  he  could  not  immediately  identify  that  mother  with 
the  lady  before  him. 

It  was  a  sad  disappointment  to  Adah,  and  without 
knowing  what  she  was  doing,  she  sank  down  upon  the 
Bofa,  and  involuntarily  laying  her  head  in  Mrs.  Richards 
lap,  cried  bitterly,  her  tears  bringing  answering  ones  from 
the  eyes  of  all  three  of  the  ladies,  for  they  half  believed 
her  grief,  in  part,  was  for  the  lifeless  form  in  the  room  be- 
low. 

"  Poor  child,  you  are  tired  and  worn.  It  is  hard  to 
lose  him  just  as  there  was  a  prospect  of  perfect  reconcili- 
ation with  us  all,"  Mrs.  Richards  said,  softly  smoothing 
the  brown  tresses  lying  on  her  lap,  and  thinking  even 
then  that  curls  were  more  becoming  to  her  daughter-in- 
law  than  braids  had  been,  but  wondering  why,  now  she 
was  in  mourning,  Adah  had  persisted  in  wearing  them. 

"Pretty  girl,  pretty  «wr/s,  is  you  tyinf"  and  won  by 
her  distress,  Willie  drew  near,  and  laid  his  baby  hand 
upon  the  curls  he  thought  so  pretty. 

«  That's  mamma,  Willie,"  Asenath  said  ;  «  the  mamma 
A  unt  Anna  said  would  come  some  time  —  Willie's  mam 
oa.     Can't  he  kiss  her  ?  " 

The  child  could  not  resist  the  face  which,  lifting  itself 
p,  locked   eagerly  at  him,  and  he  put  up  his  little  liands 
for  Adah  to  take  him,  returning  the  kisses  she   showered 
upon  hnn,  and  clinging  to  her  neck,  while  he  said^ 

**  Is  you  mam-ma  sure  ?     I  prays  for  mam-ma  —  G*>d 


StiU  HUGH    WORXniXGTON". 

take  Ccire  of  ber,  and  pa-pa  too.  He's  dead.  They 
brought  him  back  witli  a  dum.  Poor  pa-pa,  Willie 
don't  want  him  dead  ;  "  and  the  little  lip  began  to  quiv- 
er 

Never  since  she  knew  she  was  a  widow  had  Adah  felt 
■o  vivid  a  sensation  of  something  akin  to  affection  for 
the  dead,  as  when  her  child  mourned  so  plaintively  for 
papa ;  and  the  tears  which  now  fell  like  rain  were  not 
for  Willie   alone. 

"Mrs.  Richards  has  not  yet  greeted  us,"  Asenath  said ; 
and  turning  to  her  at  once,  Adah  apologized  for  her 
seeming  neglect,  pressing  both  her  and  Eudora's  hands 
more  cordially  than  she  would  have  done  a  few  moments 
before. 

"  Where  is  Amia  ?  "  she  asked ;  and  Mrs.  Richarcis 
replied, 

"  She's  sick.  She  regretted  much  that  she  could  not 
come  up  here  to-day ; "  while  Willie,  standing  in  Adah's 
lap,  with  his  chubby  arm  around  her  neck,  chimed  in, 

"  You  don't  know  what  we've  dot.  We've  dot  'ittle 
baby,  we  has." 

Adah  knew  now  why  Anna  was  absent,  and  why  Char- 
lie Millbrook  looked  so  happy  when  at  last  he  came  in  to 
eee  her,  delivering  sundry  messages  from  his  Anna,  who, 
he  said,  could  scarcely  wait  to  see  her  dear  sister.  There 
was  something  genuine  in  Charlie's  greeting,  something 
which  made  Adah  feel  as  if  she  were  indeed  at  home, 
and  she  wondered  much  how  even  the  Richards  race  could 
ever  have  objected  to  him,  as  she  watched  hismovementb 
and  heard  him  talking  with  his  stately  mother. 

*  Yes,  Major  Stanley  came,"  he  said,  in  reply  to  her 
question,  and  Adah  was  glad  it  was  put  to  him,  for  the 
blushes  dyed  her  cheek  at  once,  and  she  bent  over  Willie 
to  hide  them,  while  Charlie  continued,  "Captain  Wor- 
thington  came,  too.  He  was  in  the  same  battle  with  the 
doctor,  was  wounded  rather  seriously,  and  has  been  dis- 
charged, I  believe." 


GOING    HOME.  gg] 

"Oh,"  aud  Mrs.  Richards  seemed  quite  interested, 
asking  where  the  young  men  were,  and  appearing  disap- 
pomted  when  told  that,  after  waiting  a  few  moments  in 
hopes  of  seemg  the  ladies,  they  had  returned  to  the  ho- 
tel, where  Mrs.  Worthington  and  Alice  were  stopping. 

"I  fully  expected  the  ladies  here ;  pray,  send  for  them 
at  once,"  she  said,  but  Adah  interposed. 

"Her  mother  would  not  willingly  be  separated  from 
Hugh,  and  as  he  of  course  would  remain  at  the  hotel,  it 
would  be  useless  to  think  of  persuading  Mrs.  Worthing- 
ton to  come  to  Terrace  Hill." 

"But  Miss  Johnson  surely  will  come,"  persisted  Mrs. 
Richards. 

Adah  could  not  explain  then  that  Alice  was  less  likely 
to  leave  Hugh  than  her  mother,  but  she  said,  "Miss 
Johnson,  will  not  leave  mother  alone,"  and  so  the  mattei 
was  settled. 

It  was  a  terribly  long  day  to  Adah,  and  she  was  glad 
when  towards  its  close  Alice  was  announced  as  being  in 
the  reception  room.  She  had  driven  round,  to  call  on 
Mrs.  Richards,  and-  after  that  take  Adah  with  her  to  the 
cottage,  where  Anna,  she  knew,  was  anxious  to  receive 
her.  At  first  Mrs.  Richards  demurred,  fearing  it  would 
be  improper,  but  saying,  «My  late  son's  wife  is  of  course 
her  own  mistress,  and  can  do  as  she  likes." 

Very  adroitly  Alice  waived  all  objections,  and  bore  Adah 
off  in  triumph. 

"  I  knew  you  must  be  lonely  up  there,"  she  said,  as  they 
drove  slowly  along,  "and  there  can  be  no  harm  in  visiting 
one's  sick  sister." 

Anna  surely  did  not  think  there  was,  as  her  warm, 
welcoming  kisses  fully  testified. 

"  T  wanted  so  much  to  see  you  to-day,"  she  said,  « that 
I  have  worked  myself  into  quite  a  fever;  but  knowing 
motlier  as  I  do,  I  feared  she  might  not  sanction  your  com- 
ing; "  then  proudly  turning  down  the  blanket,  she  disclos- 


362  HUGH   WORTHINGTOir. 

ed  the  red-faced  baby,  who,  just  one  week  ago,  had  coine 
to  the  Riverside  Cottage. 

"  Isn't  he  a  beauty  ?  "  she  asked,  pressing  her  lips  upon 
the  wrinkled  forehead.  "A  boy,  too,  and  looks  so  much 
like  Charlie,  but  — ^"  and  her  soft,  blue  eyes  seemed  more 
beautiful  than  ever  with  the  maternal  love  shining  from 
them.  "I  shall  not  call  him  Charles,  nor  yet  John^  though 
mother's  heart  is  set  on  the  latter  name.  I  can't.  Iloved 
my  brother  dearly,  and  never  so  much  as  now  that  he  is 
dead,  bW  my  baby-boy  must  not  bear  his  name,  and  so  I 
have  chosen  Hugh,  Hugh  Richards.  ^  I  know  it  will  please 
you  both,"  and  she  glanced  archly  at  Alice,  who  blushingly 
kissed  the  little  boy  named  for  her  promised  husband. 

They  talked  of  Hugh  awhile,  and  then  Anna  spoke  of 
Irving  Stanley,  expressing  her  fears  that  she  could  not  see 
him  to  thank  him  for  his  kindness  and  forbearance  to  her 
erring  brother. 

"  He  must  be  noble  and  good,"  she  said,  then  turning  to 
Adah,  she  continued.  "You  know  him  well.  Do  you  like 
him?" 

"  Yes,"  and  Adah's  face  was  all  ablaze,  as  the  simple 
answer  dropped  from  her  lips. 

For  a  moment  Anna  regarded  her  intently,  then  her 
eyes  were  withdrawn  and  her  white  hand  beat  the  coun- 
terpane softly,  but  nothing  more  was  said  of  Irving  Stan- 

The  next  day  near  the  sun-setting,  they  buried  the  dead 
Boldier,  Mrs.  Richards  and  Adah  standing  side  by  side 
as  the  body  was  lowered  to  its  last  resting  place,  the 
older  leaning  upon  the  younger  for  support,  and  feeling  as 
she  went  back  to  her  lonely  home  and  heard  the  merry 
!augh  of  little  Willie  in  the  hall  that  she  was  glad  her  son 
had  married  the  young  girl,  who,  now  that  John  was  gone 
forever,  began  to, be  very  dear  to  her  as  his  wife,  the  Lily 
whom  he  had  loved  so  much.  In  the  dusky  twilight  of 
that  night  when   alone  with  Adah,  she  told  her  as  much, 


GOING   UOME.  363 

speaking  sadly  of  the  past,  which  she  regretted,  and  wish 
ing  she  had  never  objected  to  receiving  the  girl  about 
whom  John  wrote  so  lovingly. 

"  Had  I  done  differently  he  might  have  been  living  now, 
and  you  have  been  spared  much  pain,  but  you'll  forgivo 
me.  I'm  an  old  woman.  1  am  breaking  fast,  and  soon 
shall  follow  my  boy,  but  while  I  live  I  wish  for  peace,  and 
you  must  love  me,  Lily,because  I  was  his  mother,"  and  the 
hand  of  her  who  had  conceded  so  much,  rested  entreat- 
ingly  upon  the  bowed  head  of  the  young  girl  beside  her. 
There  was  no  acting  there,  Adah  knew,  and  clasping  the 
trembling  hand  she  involuntarily  whispered, 

"  I  will  love  you,  my  mother. 

"  And  stay  with  me;  too,?  "  Mrs.  Richards  continued, 
her  voice  choked  with  the  sobs  she  could  not  repress,  when 
she  heard  herself  called  mother  by  the  girl  she  had  so 
wronged.  "Anna  is  gone,  my  other  daughters  are  old.  We 
are  lonely  in  this  great  house.  We  need  somebody  young 
to  cheer  our  solitude,  and  you  will  stay,  as  mistress^  if 
you  choose,  or  as  a  petted  youngest  daughter." 

This  was  an  unlooked  for  trial  to  Adah.  She  had  not 
dreamed  of  living  at  Terrace  Hill.  But  Adah  had  never 
consulted  her  own  happiness,  and  as  she  listened  to  the 
pleading  tones  of  the  woman  who  surely  had  some  hearty 
some  noble  qualities,  she  felt  that  'twas  her  duty  to  remain 
there  for  a  time  at  least,  and  so  she  replied  at  last, 

"  I  expected  to  live  with  my  own  mother,  but  for  the 
present  my  home  shall  be  here  with  you." 

"  God  bless  you,  darling,"  and  the  proud  woman's  lips 
touched  the  fair  cheek,  while  the  proud  woman's  hand 
smoothed  again  the  soft  short  curls,  pushing  tJiem  back 
from  the  white  brow,  as  she  murmured,  "  You  are  very 
beautiful,  my  child,  just  as  John  said  you  were." 

It  was  hard  for  Adah  to  tell  Mrs.  Worthinorton  that  slid 

o 

could  not  make  one  of  the  circle  who  would  gather  around 
the  home  fireside,  but  she  did  at  last,  standing  firmly  by 


864  HtTGH   WORTHINGTOX. 

her  decision,  and  saying  in  reply  to  her  mother's  entreatiet, 
**  It  is  my  duty.  They  need  me  more  than  you,  who  have 
both  Hugh  and  Alice." 

Adah  was  right,  so  Hugh  said,  and  Alice,  too,  while 
Irving  Stanley  said  nothing.  He  must  have  found  much 
that  was  attractive  about  the  little  town  of  Snowdon,  for 
he  lingered  there  long  after  there  was  not  the  least  excuse 
for  staying.  He  did  not  go  often  to  Terrace  Hill,  and 
when  he  did,  he  never  asked  for  Adah,  but  so  long  as  ho 
could  see  her  on  Sundays  when,  with  the  Richards'  family, 
she  walked  quietly  up  the  aisle,  her  cheek  flushing  as  she 
passed  him,  and  so  long  as  he  occasionally  met  her  at  Mrs. 
Worthington's  rooms,  or  saw  her  riding  in  the  Richards 
carriage,  so  long  was  he  content  to  stay.  But  there  came 
a  time  when  he  must  go,  and  then  he  asked  for  Adah,  and 
in  the  presence  of  her  mother-in-law  invited  her  to  go 
with  him  to  her  husband's  grave.  She  went,  taking  Willie 
with  her,  and  there,  with  that  fresh  mound  between  them, 
Irving  Stanley  told  her  what  the  dying  soldier  had  said, 
and  asked  if  it  should  be  so. 

"  Not  now,  not  yet,"  he  continued,  as  Adah's  eyes  were 
bent  upon  that  grave,  "but  by  and  by,  will  you  do  your 
husband's  bidding  and  be  my  wife  ?  " 

**  I  will,"  and  taking  Willie  s  hand  Adah  put  it  with  hers 
into  the  broad,  warm  palm  which  clasped  them  both,  as 
Irving  whispered,  "  Your  child  shall  be  mine,  and  never 
need  to  know  that  I  am  not  his  father." 

It  was  arranged  that  Alice  should  tell  Mrs.  Richards,  as 
Adah  would  have  no  concealments.  Accordingly,  Alice 
asked  a  private  interview  with  the  lady,  to  whom  she  toid 
everything  as  she  understood  it.  And  Mrs.  Richards, 
though  weeping  bitterly,  generously  exonerated  Adah 
from  all  blame,  commended  her  as  having  acted  wisely, 
and  then  added,  with  a  flush  of  pride  : 

"  Many  a  woman  would  be  glad  to  marry  Irving  Stanley, 
and  it  gives  me  pleasure  to  know  that  to  my  son's  widow 


GOING    HOME.  365 

the  honor  is  accorded.  He  is  worthy  to  take  John  s  place, 
and  she,  I  believe,  is  worthy  of  him.  I  love  her  already 
as  my  daughter,  and  shall  look  upon  him  as  a  son.  You 
say  they  are  in  the  garden.     Let  them  both  come  to  me." 

They  came,  and  listened  quietly,  while  Mrs.  Richards 
ianctioned  their  engagement,  and  then,  with  a  little  eulogy 
upon  her  departed  son,  said  to  Adah,  "You  will  wait  » 
year,  of  course.     It  will  not  be  proper  before." 

Irving  had  hoped  for  only  six  months'  probation,  but 
Adah  was  satisfied  with  the  year,  and  they  went  from 
Mrs.  Richards'  presence  with  the  feeling  that  Providence 
was  indeed  smiling  upon  their  pathway,  and  flooding  it 
with  sunshine. 

The  next  day  Major  Stanley  left  Snowdon,  but  not  un 
til  there  had  come  to  Hugh  a  letter,  whose  handwriting 
made  Mrs.  Worthington  turn  pale,  it  brought  back  so 
vividly  the  terror  of  the  olden  time.  It  was  from  Mur- 
doch, and  it  enclosed  for  Mrs.  Worthington  the  sum  of 
five  hundred  dollars,  "  I  have  no  reason  for  thinking  you 
rich,"  he  wrote,  "  and  should  she  need  more  I  will  try  to 
send  it  as  some  atonement  for  the  past." 

Then,  after  speaking  of  his  fruitless  search  for  Adah, 
and  his  hearing  at  last  that  she  was  found  and  Dr.  Rich- 
ards dead,  he  added,  "  As  there  is  nothing  left  for  me  to 
do,  and  as  I  am  sure  to  be  playing  mischief  if  idle,  I  have 
joined  the  army,  and  am  training  a  band  of  contrabands 
to  fight  as  soon  as  the  government  comes  to  its  senses, 
and  is  willing  for  the  negroes  to  bear  their  part  in  the 
battle." 

The  letter  ended  with  saying  that  he  should  never  come 
out  of  the  war  alive,  simply  because  it  would  last  until 
he  was  too  old  to  live  any  longer. 

It  was  a  relief  for  Mrs.  Worthington  to  hear  fi'om  him, 
and  know  that  he  probably  would  not  trouble  her  again, 
while  Adah,  whose  memories  of  him  were  pleasanter,  ex 
pressed  a  strong  desire  to  see  him. 


866  HUGH    WORTUINGTOX. 

"  We  will  find  him  by  and  by,  when  you  are  mine,"  Irv- 
ing said  playfully  and  drawing  her  into  an  adjoining  room, 
where  they  could  be  alone,  he  said  his  parting  words,  and 
then  with  Hugh  went  to  meet  the  train  which  took  him 
away  from  Snowdon. 


CHAPTER  XL. 

CONCLUSION. 

The  New  England  hills  were  tinged  with  that  peculiar 
purplish  haze,  so  common  to  the  Indian  summer  time,  and 
the  warm  sunlight  of  November  fell  softly  upon  Snowdon, 
whose  streets  were  full  of  eager,  expectant  people  —  aJl 
hurrying  on  to  the  old  brick  church,  and  quickening  their 
steps  with  every  stroke  of  the  merry  bell,  pealing 
80  joyfully  from  the  tall,  dark  tower.  The  Richards' 
carriage  was  out,  and  waiting  before  the  door  of  the  Riv- 
erside cottage,for  the  appearance  of  Anna,  who  was  this 
morning  to  venture  out  for  a  short  time,  leaving  her 
baby  Hugh  alone.  Another,  and  handsomer  caniage,  was 
standing  before  the  hotel,  where  Hugh  and  his  mother 
were  stopping,  and  where,  in  a  pleasant  private  room,  Ad- 
ah Richards  helped  Alice  Johnson  make  her  tasteful  toil- 
et, smoothing  lovingly  the  rich  folds  of  greyish  colored 
silk,  arranging  the  snowy  cuffs  and  collar,  and  then  bring- 
ing the  hat  of  brown  Neapolitan,  with  its  pretty 
face  trimmings  of  blue,  and  declaring  it  a  shame  to  cover 
up  the  curls  of  hair  falling  so  luxuriously  about  the  face 
and  neck  of  the  blushing  bride.  For  it  was  Alice's  wed- 
ding day,  and  in  the  room  adjoining,  Hugh  Worthingtoo 
Btood,  waiting  impatiently  the  opening  of  the  mysterious 
door  which  Adah  had  shut  against  him,  and  wondering  i^ 
after  all,  it  were  not  a  di-eam  that  the  time  was  coming 


coNCLirsioN.  367 

fast  when  neither  bolts  nor  locks  would  have  a  right  to 
keep  him  from  his  wife. 

It  seemed  too  great  a  joy  to  be  true,  and  by  way 
of  re-assuring  himself  he  had  to  look  often  at  the  crowds 
of  people  hurrying  by,  and  down  upon  old  Sam,  who,  in 
fall  dress,  with  white  cotton  gloves  drawn  awkwardly  up 
on  his  cramped  distorted  fingers,  stood  by  the  carriage, 
bowing  to  all  who  passed,  himself  the  very  personification 
of  perfect  bliss. 

"  Massah  Hugh  the  perfectest  massah,"  he  said,  "  and 
Miss  Ellis  alittle  more  so; "  adding  that  though  "Canaan 
was  a  mighty  nice  place,  he  'sumed,  he'd  rather  not  go 
thar  jist  yet,  but  live  a  leetle  longer  to  see  them  'joy 
themselves.  Thar  they  comes  — dat'sMiss  in  grey.  She 
knows  how't  orange  posies  and  silks  and  satins  is  proper 
for  weddin'  nights ;  but  she's  gwine  travelin',  and  dat'a 
why  she  comed  out  in  dat  stun-color^  Sam'll  be  blamed  if 
he  fancies."  And  having  thus  explained  Alice's  choice  of 
dress,  the  old  negro  held  the  carriage  door  himself,  while 
Hugh,  handing  in  his  mother,  sister,  and  his  bride,  took 
his  seat  beside  them,  and  was  driven  to  the  <^hurch. 

Twenty  minutes  passed,  and  then  the  streets  were  filled 
again ;  but  now  the  people  were  going  home",  talking  as 
they  went  of  the  beauty  of  the  bride,  and  of  the  splendid- 
looking  bridegroom,  who  looked  so  fondly  at  her  rs  she 
murmured  her  responses,  kissing  her  first  himself  when 
the  ceremony  was  over,  and  letting  his  arm  rest  for  a  mo- 
ment  around  her  slender  form.  No  one  doubted  its  be- 
ing a  genuine  love-match,  and  all  rejoiced  in  the  happiness 
of  the  newly  married  pair,  who,  at  the  village  depot 
were  waiting  for  the  train  which  would  take  them  on  their 
way  to  Kentucky,  for  that  was  their  destination. 

In  the  distracted  condition  of  the  country  Hugh's  pres 
ence  was  needed  there ;  for,  taking  advantage  of  his  ab- 
sence, and  the  thousand  rumors  afloat  touching  the  Proc- 
lamation one  of  his  negroes  had  already  ran  away  in  com 


368  HUGH   WORTHINGTON". 

pany  with  some  half-dozen  of  the  Colonel's,  who,  in  a  ter 
rible  state  of  excitement,  talked  seriously  of  emigrating 
to  Canada.  Hugli's  timely  arrival,  however,  quieted  him 
somewhat,  though  he  listened  in  sorrow,  and  almost  with 
tears,  to  Hugh's  plan  of  selling  the  Spring  Bank  farm  and 
removing  with  his  negroes  to  some  New  England  town, 
wliere  Alice,  he  knew,  would  be  happier  than  she  had 
been  in  Kentucky.  But  a  purchaser  for  Spring  Bank  wag 
not  so  easily  found  in  those  dark  days  ;  and  so,  doing 
with  his  land  the  best  he  could,  he  caMed  about  him  his 
negroes,  and  giving  to  each  his  freedom,  proposed  that 
they  stay  quietly  where  they  were  until  Spring,  when  he 
hoped  to  find  them  all  employment  on  the  farm  he  was 
to  buy  in  New  England. 

Aunt  Eunice  wJio  understood  managing  blacks  better 
than  his  mother  or  his  inexperienced  wife,  was  to  be 
his  housekeeper  in  that  new  home  of  his,  where  the 
Colonel  and  his  family  would  always  be  welcome ;  and 
havmg  thus  pro\aded  for  those  for  whom  it  was  his  duty 
to  care,  he  returned  to  Snowdon  in  time  to  join  the 
Christmas  party  at  Terrace  Hill,  where  Irving  Stanley  was 
a  guest,  and  where,  in  spite  of  the  war-clouds  darkening 
our  land,  and  in  spite  of  the  sad,  haunting  memories  of 
the  dead,  there  was  much  of  hilarity  and  joy  —  reminding 
the  villagers  of  the  olden  time  when  Terrace  Hill  was 
filled  with  gay  revelers.  Anna  Millbrook  was  there,  more 
beautiful  than  in  her  girlhood,  and  excessively  fond  of  her 
missionary  Charlie,  who  she  laughingly  fleclared  was  per- 
fectly incorrigible  on  the  subject  of  surplice  and  gown, 
adding  that  as  "the  mountain  would  not  go  to  Mahomet, 
Mahomet  must  go  to  the  mountain  ;  "  and  so  she  was  fast 
becoming  an  out-and-out  Presbyterian  of  the  very  bluest 
stripe. 

Sweet  Anna !  None  who  looked  into  her  truthful,  lov- 
ing face,  or  knew  the  consistency  of  her  daily  life,  could 
doubt  that  whether  Presbyterian  or  Episcopal  in  senti- 


CONCLUSION'.  361^ 

raent,  the  heart  was  right  and  the  feet  were  treading' 
the  narrow  path  which  leadeth  unto  life  eternal. 

It  was  a  happy  week  spent  at  Terrace  Hill ;  but  one 
heart  ached  to  its  very  core  when,  at  its  close,  Irv^ing 
Stanley  went  back  to  where  duty  called  him,  trusting 
hat  the  God  who  had  succored  him  thus  far,  would  shield 
nim  from  future  harm,  and  keep  him  safely  till  the  com 
ing  autumn,  when,  with  the  first  falling  of  the  leaf,  he 
would  gather  to  his  embrace  his  darling  beautiful  Adah. 


On  the  white  walls  of  a  handsome  country  seat  just 
on  the  banks  of  the  Connecticut,  the  light  of  the  April 
sunset  falls,  and  the  soft  April  wind  kisses  the  fair  cheek 
and  lifts  the  golden  curls  of  the  young  mistress  of  Spring 
Bank  —  for  so,  in  memory  of  the  olden  time,  Hugh  and 
Alice  have  named  their  new  home.  Arm  in  arm  they 
walk  up  and  down  the  terraced  garden,  talking  softly  of 
the  way  they  have  been  led,  and  gratefully  ascribing  all 
praise  to  Him  who  rules  and  overrules,  but  doeth  nought 
save  good  to  those  who  love  Him. 

Down  in  the  meadow-land  and  at  the  rear  of  the  build 
ing,  dusky  forms  are  seen  —  the  negroes,  who  have  come 
to  their  Northern  home,  and  with  them  the  runaway. 
Ashamed  of  his  desertion  he  has  returned  to  his  former 
master,  resenting  the  name  of  contraband^  and  denounc- 
ing the  ultra-abolitionist  as  humbugs,  who  deserved  put- 
ting in  the  front  of  every  battle.  Hugh  knows  it  will  be 
hard  accustoming  these  blacks  to  Northern  usages  but 
as  he  has  their  good  in  view,  he  feels  sure  that  in  time 
he  will  succeed,  and  cares  but  little  for  the  opinion  of 
those  who  wonder  what  he  "  expects  to  do  with  that  lazy 
lot  of  niggers." 

On  a  rustic  seat,  near  a  rear  door,  white-haired  old 
Sam  is  sitting,  listening  intently,  while  dusky  Mug,  reads 
to  him  from  the  book  of  books,  the  one  he  prizes  above 


870  HUGH   WORTHINGTOlf. 

all  else,  stopping  occasionally  to  expound,  in  his  own 
way,  some  point  which  he  fancies  may  not  be  clear  to 
ber,  likening  every  good  man  to  "Massah  Hugh,"  and 
overy  bad  one  to  the  leader  of  the  "  Suddern  Federacy," 
whose  horse  he  declares  he  held  once  in  "ole  Virginny," 
telling  Mug,  in  an  aside,  "  how,  if  'twant  wicked,  nor 
agin  de  scripter,  he  should  most  wish  he'd  put  beech-nuts 
under  Massah  Jeffres'  saddle,  and  so  broke  his  fetch-ed 
neck,  'fore  he  raise  sich  a  muss,  runnin'  calico  so  high 
that  Miss  Ellis  'clar  she  couldn't  'ford  it,  and  axin'  fifteen 
cents  for  a  paltry  spool  of  cotton." 

In  the  stable-yard,  Claib,  his  good-humored  face  all 
aglow  wdth  pride,  is  exercising  Rocket,  who  arches  his 
neck  as  proudly  as  of  old,  and  dances  mincingly  around, 
while  Lulu  leans  over  the  gate,  watching  not  so  much 
him  as  the  individual  who  holds  him.  And  now  that  it 
gi'ows  darker,  and  the  ripple  of  the  river  sounds  more 
like  eventide,  lights  gleam  from  the  pleasant  parlor  where 
Mrs.  TV  orthington  and  Aunt  Eunice  are  sitting  by  the 
cheerful  fire, just  kindled  on  the  marble  hearth.  Thither 
Hugh  and  Alice  repair,  while  one  by  one  the  negroes  come 
quietly  in,  and  kneeling  side  by  side,  follow  with  stam- 
mering tongues,  but  honest  hearts,  their  beloved  master 
as  he  says  first  the  prayer  our  Saviour  taught,  and  then 
with  words  of  thankful  praise  asks  God  to  bless  and 
keep  him  and  his  in  the  days  to  come,  even  as  he  hai 
blessed  and  kept  them  in  the  days  gone  by. 


THB   BXI> 


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